Day of Disaster: REVISED
by Queen000
Summary: The day that would soon decide the fate of the world is upon us. When the evidence of a murder leads to the man who once saved the world from Ultimecia, will it bring about a war that could rival that of Adel's reign? Revamped! W00T!
1. Hour 1

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**01/26/2007:** _Because I was not overly impressed with the story upon its completion, Day of Disaster will be having a complete re-haul. I might even consider changing the title of the story. Nevertheless, the original will stay posted in my profile simply because it is completed, and it is a look at how much (or little in some cases) I have improved. _

_Much of the storyline will stay the same with some additions (or subtractions) and modifications to make it even more realistic. Starting with chapter 4, which was the beginning of the end for me at least, some of the chapters will be combined in order to restructure the story (which means overly large chapters as a whole ). _

_Also, I know I'm copying Peptuck with the whole revamping idea, but to be honest, I don't care. I think it's a great idea to keep your original work posted while you make improvements on the same story in order to tell the difference in the style. Hopefully I won't screw up as badly the third time around. In any case, enjoy. _

**02/01/2007: **_I forgot to put the time inbetween certain scenes in this chapter. That mistake had been rectified._

**03/26.2008: **_Because my formatting is no longer permitted on ffnet, I am forced to go through the entire story and fix where ffnet has allowed gaps to form. Hopefully I get them all._

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**The following takes place between 2am and 3am in Esthar Time.  
****Events occur in real time. **

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The cool autumn breeze flew past the desolate buildings of the business district of Esthar City. For once, the night was quiet; a welcome change from the chaotic sounds of monster attacks and hectic soldiers and SeeDs alike trying to divert their attention and exterminate them. Children were sleeping soundlessly, excluding the occasional wake up call to visit the facilities or to get a glass of water before wandering back to their beds. Those who had work or other engagements for the following day were also sleeping peacefully, without worry of suddenly catching sight of an Imp wandering around their kitchens and blasting utilities to kindling.

The ones who were not asleep where busy working at the Presidential Residence, making sure the government as well as the country was run as smoothly as humanly possible. Documents were frequently being filed after being typed up and signed by the President of Esthar, the lawyers of the city were quickly looking at cases that had been handed to them by the courts, and the guards and soldiers were making their rounds, as they normally would. The number of soldiers stationed to guard duty, however, had been drastically reduced since the decrease of monster activity within the city. People were finally beginning to feel as though everything was returning to the way things were before Ultimecia's attack.

Four months had passed. Four months since the end of the war and the beginning of the rebuilding of society was initiated. The worst part about their enemy being a Sorceress who came from the future was the fact that she was from the future, so they couldn't force her to clean up the mess that she had caused. Thus, the task had been bestowed upon the citizens of the world who were currently living in such disarray. It helped that the people were willing to help make their lives prosperous once again; cleaning off debris and doing the best of their ability to restore order and calm. Of course, it also helped that the government of not only the country needing assistance, but also that the governments of other countries were willing to do their part as well.

SeeD had especially been helpful with the looming monsters within the cities and villages, herding them all together before either re-locating them to places where they would do no harm, or wiping them out. Galbadia, Balamb, Trabia, and Esthar were currently freed of any remaining creatures that could potentially cause a threat to humankind as well as their civilization. Buildings had been restored to their orderly fashion, and operations had come into existence to ensure that nothing like the two Sorceress' Wars ever occurred again.

The world had even begun to create somewhat of a world order that would ensure world peace for the future; preventing war and other such things from re-occurring. SeeD had personally taken on the job of Peacekeepers, and as such, they would step in to prevent any situation from extending further into the brink of a war that would probably destroy them all in the end. A legislative body was selected to represent each country, which were made up of groups of three to further represent the people's voices and so far, the building of this selective group was progressing quite nicely. It would be another month before the organization of such a group was finalized, but in the meantime, it appeared as though the people were finally ready to put aside their differences and actually work together for a peaceful existence.

Because of the lesser need for soldiers to be stationed around the city, in order to prevent any further monster attacks from occurring, security had become lighter. Soldiers who normally patrolled the city streets in search of something out of the ordinary had scaled down to a comfortable party of three rather than the looming group of ten or twelve that had become a bothersome habit. The number of guards standing guard and patrolling the perimeter of the Presidential Residence had decreased as well, the number five replacing the number fifty. Each soldier was to take three hours to circle and watch over the perimeter before another member of their team relieved them.

Currently, one lone soldier stood in front of the entrance to the Presidential Residence. He was dressed in the same military dress as his comrades; a silver and purple uniform with camouflage enhancers, which also served as protective chest armour and a helmet, shaped like a bug's head with antennae, which enhanced tele-communication capabilities. Of course, it appeared as though it was more for decoration, which was exactly how the Estharian army would deceive their Galbadian enemies in the past. Their main weapon was an axe gun; an axe grafted onto a miniature shotgun. The axe was detachable, and served well as a boomerang. It was the same colour as the uniforms, and possessed camouflage capabilities as well, so as not to stand out while on a stealth mission. The axe gun was not the only weapon of their arsenal. They also possessed grenades, which were regularly kept strapped onto their belts, as well as a small broadsword to fend off enemies at close range. A combat knife was secured inside of his boot just in case he lost his weapons, and another was hidden up in the sleeve covering his right arm.

The soldiers of Esthar have, for a long while, served as both law enforcement agents and military officials. This was the case because the training that came with becoming a member of the Estharian military was also credited with the safety of the civilians within the area. They were much like SeeD when it came to an operation; hurt the target and keep as many innocents safe as possible. Because of this, it wasn't uncommon to spot an officer helping an elderly person, or assisting parents in bringing their children to school.

The lone soldier stood at the ready, waiting for orders to move his position towards the east wing of the Presidential Residence, and just watching out for anything out of the ordinary. Mack Daniels sighed as he continued to keep watch, adjusting the holster holding his gun and checking his sleeves just in case the knife had dropped out, which wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Satisfied, he levelled his gaze and scanned the area in his direct line of vision. He had promised his fiancé that he would quit the late night patrols, but he also wanted to make their upcoming wedding day special. After all, her previous husband had been a wealthy executive, and made their wedding an extravagant event. Compared to that, Mack understood that he wasn't even a runner up, and some days he wondered why she even accepted the proposal from a less than Average Joe like himself. But he was grateful nonetheless and he was prepared to spend as many nights keeping an eye on the perimeter or any other demeaning task he had to in order to make that day something to remember.

Snapping out of his revere, he levelled his weapon as soon as he detected movement from his night vision visor, and realized that the intruder was heading straight towards him. The person before him appeared to be a short male, with dark hair and light eyes. He was also dressed completely in black, and probably would have remained un-detected had Mack not turned on his visor when he first came on duty. Frowning slightly underneath the helmet, Mack took a deep breath and slowly approached the man, his weapon still raised. "The Presidential Residence is off limits. Please make an appointment with the general secretary in the morning."

The man merely stopped his pace when he reached a few meters away from the soldier, and raised his arms in a peaceful gesture. "Sorry to bother you," he said after a moment. "But I have some pressing matters to deal with inside. Its business and I wouldn't normally be here if it could wait until the morning."

As soon as the man before him began to speak, Mack's weapon was already lowered to the side. He immediately recognized the voice and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't anyone potentially dangerous. "Oh, sorry about the mix up, sir," Mack quickly said, replacing his weapon to his side. "I didn't realize that it was you. Those mechanics can make camouflage equipment unlike anyone else, but they can't seem to make night vision goggles that can identify someone upon looking at 'em. You just looked like a green blur to me."

The man nodded in response to the apology, but said nothing else as Mack personally escorted him towards the building's front. "Please, right this way. I think everyone is still awake in there. Working on some last minute preparations for the United Confederation. I don't think it'll be a problem for you to get your business done with. Good luck with that, by the way."

Once again, the man nodded and sat down on the telepod positioned just outside of the Presidential Residence. It was a small circular object, painted silver and white to contrast the buildings exterior, and could fit three people on it. The man leaned forward, resting his chin on his enclosed hands as the telepod took the visitor into the Residence. Mack waved him on and returned to his post.

As soon as the telepod stopped at the first level of the building, the man rose from his seated position and took this moment to look around. The interior was even more impressive than the exterior, as he had seen many times before and it never ceased to amaze him how extravagant everything seemed. The ceiling itself had to have been at least ten feet taller than himself, rounded up in an arching formation with a large circular lamp sitting in the very center.

Surrounding that light in a circular pattern were a group of smaller lights, seemingly a part of the ceiling itself. Paintings on the wall gave off a homier atmosphere and almost made him believe he had come to the wrong building. A desk was positioned at the far end of the room, meant for the secretary that usually was stationed to meet with the visitors, but she seemed to have stepped out for the night, as the lights surrounding the desk were turned off. The lights surrounding the man had only turned on automatically because the mechanisms built within them alerted the light fixtures that there was movement within the room.

As the man continued further into the room, the lights that he passed by turned off after a few moments of no motion. He figured that they would have done this, having already been told about the automated lights that would activate after hours. Within a few moments, he had already approached the desk and turned on the computer to his left, his gloved hands flying over the keyboard as if they were possessed. The computer possessed a flat screen monitor, with a holographic appearance, and the information seemed to literally jump out at the reader. The man quickly searched through document after document, searching for something specific before he finally found what he was looking for. Skimming the contents for a moment, he found the floor that appeared to have some relevance to the information and quickly turned off the computer.

Walking through the double-doors positioned to the left of the secretary's desk, he approached the elevator directly in front of him, after giving an acknowledging nod to the security guards stationed just outside of the mechanical box, and entered. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he pressed the button that would lead him to the sixty-forth floor. According to his sources, the people he was looking for were located on that floor, and a few others were scattered around the surrounding floors nearby, mostly scaling upwards. The information he had found gave him valuable insight on where they were and how long they were scheduled to be there. He quickly check his watch, of which had been adjusted to read in Estharian time. It was already five after two. He was running a little behind schedule, and he had to make up for lost time quickly.

When the elevator signaled that he had reached his destination, he quickly exited the mechanical box, looking back to see a few more workers filing in, probably having checked out and were on their way to their homes. A quick inspection revealed that they were not any of the people he was looking for and he continued on his way. Searching the rooms as he passed, he noted that everyone seemed particularly busy with the progress on the United Confederation. Each room he passed seemed to be crawling with people chatting and working on the final preparations for the group. Even though he knew that it would take a month to complete, he figured that the Estharians appeared to be far smarter than he had given them credit.

Finally, he came to a room with just one occupant, and it appeared this was one of the men he was looking for. The man was seated at his computer terminal, typing quickly as his eyes remained glued to the computer screen, never once leaving the flat surface for a moment. He appeared to be a middle-aged male, his hair greying out at the sides, but the top remaining a lighter brown colour. His brown eyes did not leave the screen he was looking at, and he was dressed in a brown vest with a pair of brown slacks and loafers. A white shirt stuck out from underneath the vest, as did his lavender coloured tie.

The simple fact that the elder man was busy made things easier for him. Pulling on a black toque-like mask, he made sure that it was secure before he quickly entered the room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. Just before he could make a move, however, he noticed the man before him straighten up in his seat, which signaled that he had heard his entry. "Emily? I thought you said you were going home for the night?"

Before he could answer, however, the elder man shrugged just after he finished asking his question. "Oh, nevermind. Could you do me a small favour? Get me a refill of my coffee, won't you? I seem to have finished off the last in my mug."

The man looked over towards the desk and recognized the white coffee mug sitting near the edge of the desk. He made no move to move over to it, however, instead slowly walking towards him.

"Emily?" The man asked again. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," The man said, as soon as he was standing behind him. "But I'm not Emily."

The man at the computer jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and slowly turned around to face the man. His curious expression changed to one of shock as he quickly jumped out of his seat and backed away from him. "Who are you? And what are you doing here? Security shouldn't have allowed you entry."

"You really can't get good help these days, now can you?" The man said, grabbing a hold of the coffee mug, examining it for a moment.

"What do you want?" The middle-aged man asked, circling over towards his desk.

"We have some business that needs to be concluded, of course." The man said. He noted exactly where the worker was going and leapt over the desk, blocking his path. "Don't bother going to your desk or calling security. You need to stay quiet."

The executive stared at him in shock before backing up towards the only exit. This time, the man kicked the desk so that it landed at the door, blocking it from opening. The man, in an attempt to avoid running into the desk, managed to slip backwards and landed inside of the bookshelf. "Don't hurt me…I don't even know who you are! What sort of business would I have with you?"

The man began the task of tossing the coffee mug up into the air as he looked around the cluttered office. Papers were stacked everywhere, and the ones that had sat upon the desk had been blown off in a miniature hurricane. "Oh, trust me. We have some business. Just because you don't know me doesn't mean that there's no significance in our meeting."

The imprisoned man could only watch as his coffee mug was tossed up and down in the air. He refused to move this time, lest he become the target of this man's unruly strength. Suddenly, the man missed the mug and watched almost uncaringly as it crashed onto the carpeted floor with a quiet crack, shattering into large fragments.

"Oops…" the man said apathetically. "I missed."

"What is it that you want with me?"

Sighing, the man bent over to pick at the shards of broken glass. "I never would have thought they allowed deaf men to work in an area that calls for attentive behaviour. I already told you, we have business that needs to be concluded." He picked up one of the shards as he made his way over towards the prisoner.

"What kind of business?" The man asked, eyeing the broken shard. "Please don't hurt me!"

"By all means." The man said, stopping just in front of the man. "Trust me, sir. This isn't going to hurt for too long." With that, he gripped the broken shard tightly in his hand as he grabbed a hold of the whimpering man by the hair. Holding him up with inhuman strength, he turned him so that his back was facing him before slitting the businessman's throat from the bottom of one ear lobe to the other.

Letting go of what would soon be a bleeding corpse, the man headed straight towards the window, opening it up and stepping out into the cool autumn air as he did. Closing the window behind him, he headed towards another window, breaking it in one easy punch and climbing inside of the room within. It appeared as though he had broken into a storage closet, which was just fine with him.

Pulling his watch into view, he realized that that had taken a little longer than he had expected. Sure, he was told to make them suffer before they died, but he didn't want to waste any time whatsoever in doing so. The next one on his hit list would have to die far faster than the previous man.

* * *

Denise Williams was just coming back from grabbing another cup of coffee. Two creams and three sugars. That's how she normally took it. She was a newly hired intern, having graduated from the prestigious Willows Academy with high honours. She had applied for the job merely a month after graduation and had been hired a week after. She was a brunette with tanned skin and dark brown eyes. She was dressed in a purple work suit; a purple vest and a purple skirt set with a pair of black dress shoes and a plum coloured shirt underneath the vest. Dark stockings clung to her legs as she walked throughout the hallway, cup of coffee in her left hand as she read the files that she had brought along with her. The business apparel was only validated when working on a serious assignment, and unless that requirement was fulfilled, all workers were required to dress appropriately in the Estharian Robes.

Denise had come to this understanding when she had begun work on her current project and couldn't work with the robe's longs sleeves. With the finalizing of the United Confederation, she couldn't leave her work for more that ten seconds and she was already working overtime.

Turning the corner, she suddenly heard the sound of something being pushed up against the door. Frowning to herself, she walked in the direction of where the sound was coming from, holding the manila folder at her side as she took a sip of her coffee, being as quiet as humanly possible. As she continued down the hall, she could barely make out the sounds of a couple of people talking. Further investigation revealed that it was coming from Mr. Hector Douglass' office.

Denise slowly approached the door and rested her head against it, trying to listen in on what was going on. She could make out the sounds of someone whimpering, and the sound of someone else in the room, but when she tried to open the door, she realized that something was blocking the way. Just as she was about to ram the door open, she heard Mr. Douglass begging his visitor not to hurt him and then nothing.

Backing away for a moment, she tried to process in her mind exactly what that meant. It could have meant many things; for instance, Mr. Douglass had been knocked unconscious by whoever else was in the room, or maybe the intruder knew that he had been heard and was keeping Mr. Douglass quiet. There was another possibility, but Denise refused to allow that thought to come to mind. Instead, she took a deep shaking breath and rushed the door, her left shoulder lowered in front of her and she charged into the door, hoping that maybe she could bust it open. Her coffee mug and papers were instantly forgotten and there now lay a puddle of the warm dark liquid on the floor. Luckily, her papers had been dropped behind her, so they were not matted in the beverage. Backing up momentarily, she repeated the procedure, mentally thanking the University for having a Girls football team.

After quite a few tries, she was finally able to push away whatever it was blocking the door. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough and ended up falling onto the ground on her left shoulder. Groaning in pain, she looked aside and realized that adrenaline must have helped her push open the door since a desk had been positioned to block any entry. Sitting up, she rubbed at her arm, wincing audibly as she realized that she was going to have a big bruise in the morning. As she rubbed her arm, she noted with dread that there was some sort of liquid soaking into the fabric of her outfit. Pulling her right arm in front of herself, she realized that the substance on her hand was blood.

As Denise looked around for something to wipe the blood off her hand, she turned to the direction of the bookshelf and screamed when she saw the dead body of Mr. Hector Douglass staring back at her, a clean cut from ear to ear through his neck.

* * *

James' Logans quickly made his way towards the Presidential Office, never missing a step as he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Not more than six minutes prior did they tend to the body of Hector Douglass before it was discovered that three more employees had fallen to the same fate; one having been strangled to death while the other's neck had been broken.

As he turned the corner, he tapped the earpiece that sat in his left ear. James was dressed in a black suit, with a white dress shirt underneath and a black tie done up around his neck. Securely fashioned onto his belt were a couple of .9mm pistols. A hand held .6mm revolver sat snugly in the holster that rested against his ankle. He wore black sunglasses, despite the fact that it was dark outside, but programmed inside of them was a heat sensor that could sense anyone within a twenty-meter radius. In addition, the sunglasses had inside of the lens a micro lens camera, which could perform one of two operations; one, to record his surroundings instantly and another to see through the eyes of the surveillance cameras within the building. A small button on the left recorded the surroundings while two on the right could control which camera's he was seeing through.

The earpiece in his ear connected to the person he was contacting, and the familiar voice of his partner acknowledging him sounded in his ear. "Deilia, I'm almost at the President's office. Do you have any further information since the murders were first discovered?"

"Negative James." The female voice answered back. "We're still on pursuit. The soldiers on the perimeter have been warned about the intruder, and a few hundred more soldiers are on the lookout for him."

"Alright. Standing by for further information."

"Be on the ready. We might find something."

James cut the transmission short as he walked past the Estharian Soldiers standing guard in front of the Presidential Office. He didn't even offer them a salute as he just stormed in through the sliding doors, neither Soldier budging from their post as he addressed the man seated behind three large stacks of papers. "Sir!"

The President nearly jumped out of his skin, as the room had been dead silent before James' sudden entry. He put aside his reading glasses, apparently having recognized his head of Security and rose to his feet, trying to look over the hulking stacks of paperwork to at least give the man proper eye contact. After a moment, the President merely grabbed a hold of the middle stack of papers and moved them over towards a nearby desk before returning to his seat.

The President had long dark hair that normally reached past his shoulders had it not been constantly pulled back into a messy ponytail. The shorter strands of hair that could not be kept at bay by the elastic band sat stubbornly in front of his green eyes. He was dressed a tad more professionally than he normally would have been; a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks and dress shoes. The sleeves of his shirt, however, were rolled up to his elbows, since the cuffs that would normally have reached his wrists had begun to bother him during the procession of his work. "What is it?" asked Laguna Loire, as he shifted in his seat for a moment.

"One of the workers working on the United Confederations project found one of her colleagues murdered in his own office." James stated, quickly saluting the President before giving his report. "By the time our men were able to arrive on the scene, we were informed that three more people had been killed as well."

"How long ago did this happen?" Laguna asked, leaning forward on his desk, his hands clasped together, and his expression serious.

"According to the worker, she found Mr. Hector Douglass dead in his office ten minutes ago, and she heard voices in his office prior to that."

"Someone was murdered ten minutes ago and you're only telling me this now?" Laguna rubbed the bridge of his nose before taking in a deep breath. "And how long ago did the other murders occur?"

"Somewhere between the time we were called and now." James answered. "My men are busy guarding the area where the deaths occurred and have restricted access to the floors from sixty and above. In addition, the soldiers within the building are on alert and patrolling the perimeter as we speak. Whoever the intruder is, he's not getting away."

Laguna nodded, seemingly more to himself than to anyone else. "Good. I want your men to keep a close eye on everything and to study the surveillance tapes that recorded everything that had to do with the floor the murder took place on within the last half hour, just to be safe."

James nodded and saluted before turning around and exiting the office. He relayed the message through the earpiece and frowned to himself as he entered the elevator. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to be resolved any time soon.

* * *

Jack Anderson was just putting together his portfolio that would pertain to the information that would be necessary at the next presentation of the United Confederation. He had already been there more than twelve hours, but it wasn't like he had anyone to return to. He had no significant other, and all he returned to was his home in the Eastern Sector of the city, where he could stay up all night and listen to his roommate have phone sex with some hotline all night long. He didn't mind the government job; in fact, he preferred it to his social life, but all he really wanted to do was settle in for the night. The only reason why his roommate wasn't out on the street was the guy was his younger brother and he had nowhere else to go.

The man was nearing his fifties, and was looking forward to retirement, even if it meant he was stuck at home all day. He already had a plan that he was willing to see to the end. He had a nice little summer home paid for near the Mandy Beach around the Timber Area, and, despite the fact that it was Galbadian ground, he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his days near a beach. He had greying dark hair that, no matter how many times he tried to colour it, would always grey out no matter what he did. He wasn't a very large man, but he wasn't small either, barely reaching six feet in height and dressed in a beige dress outfit.

Sighing as he replaced the last of his work in the filing cabinet of his office, he grabbed a hold of his jacket and car keys before heading towards the door when a creaking sound was heard. Jumping at the noise, he quickly turned around to see what made it and sighed in relief when he discovered that it was just his imagination. The alert had been sounded roughly ten minutes ago that four people had been killed while working, and he couldn't help but worry about his own wellbeing. Many of his colleagues had chosen to take the rest of the night off, and he figured that he would follow suit.

Shrugging, he turned to make his exit, only to find a man in black standing between him and the door. Jack jumped backwards, dropping his jacket and keys and clutching at his chest.

The man in black merely looked at his fingernails before turning to glare at Jack. "What's the matter, Jack? You're a tad jumpy tonight."

Jack backed up until he suddenly hit his desk. He looked behind him to see what he bumped into and immediately turned to look at the intruder. "How do you know my name?"

"You're somewhat of a celebrity, Jack." The man answered, closing the door behind him. "But idle chit chat isn't why I'm here really. I have an operation that I need to see to. Time to say good night, Mr. Anderson."

Before the man in black could take a step closer, he noticed Jack make a move for something attached to his belt and an instant later, was forced to duck as three bullets were fired from the firearm that the man held.

Jack frowned as he prepared the shoot his attacker again. "Good night." He said before firing once more.

The man in black was faster than he was though, and by the time he had fired the shot, a blade was lodged into the man's gut. Jack spat out blood as his killer turned the blade around, twisting together his insides and the victim tried to breathe his last breath. Slumping backwards into the desk, Jacks eyes focused up towards the ceiling, wondering why it was that Hyne was so cruel.

The man stood over the dead body of Jack Anderson, contemplating his next victim; that is until the door suddenly burst open and at least four Estharian Soldiers stood in the doorway. "Freeze!" one of the soldiers shouted.

Figuring that his job was done, at least for the moment, he stepped over the dead body before jumping up onto the desk and crashing out of the window, shattering glass in the process. The soldiers spread out, two on either side as another soldier entered the room to tend to the dead man. One of the soldiers signaled to his comrades, counting backwards from three before they all raised their firearms and looked out the window. However, when they looked, there was no trace of him whatsoever. They looked all around the surrounding area, even chancing a look down, but did not even find a hint that the man was even there.

The leader of the group of five Soldiers activated his communicator, patching in to the guards stationed on the ground. "Be on the lookout! The suspect just jumped out of the window of the sixty-sixth floor. There should be a body around the fifth sector on the West Side."

There was silence for a moment and each soldier held their breath in anticipation before someone finally answered back. "This is the Perimeter team. I have just reached the coordinates, we are currently standing underneath your location, but there is no body in sight."

The soldiers exchanged glances with one another before the leader spoke again. "That's impossible. Only Estharians have that kind of technology, and only members of the military are sanctioned to use it. There should be a body down there."

"I don't see a body down here." Was the response.

Frowning, the leader switched the destination of his contact to the chief of Security. Once the man picked up, the leader frowned as he said the words that he dreaded speaking. "The suspect has somehow managed to evade capture."

* * *

James returned to the Presidential Office, preparing to give out his latest report. He knew the President wasn't going to be happy about this, but he also understood that he had a job to do. If he kept this kind of information from his superior, then not only could he be indited for withholding information, but the killer could appear at any given time and strike again, this time killing an innocent civilian.

_It still doesn't make my job any easier_.James thought to himself as once again he entered the room. Laguna immediately rose to his feet upon hearing the doors open, and the General of the Estharian military, Charles O'rally, turned to see who had entered. James saluted the President immediately upon moving towards the desk. "Sir, I'm afraid that the suspect escaped. He jumped out of a window on the sixty-sixth floor after murdering another man, Jack Anderson, but, according to the soldiers who were pursuing him, he disappeared as soon as he jumped."

"Did any of the ground teams see him?" Laguna asked.

"I'm afraid not, sir." James answered. "It was as if he disappeared into thin air. Under our understanding, only our people are able to use camouflage technology, so it shouldn't have been possible."

Laguna frowned as he sank back into his chair. "And no one has any idea who this person is?"

James shook his head in response and Laguna sighed. "We were too relaxed. Just because the Sorceress' War is over doesn't give us the right to take things too lightly. Because of that, five people are now dead."

"All ground units," Orally spoke into his headpiece. "Keep searching for the suspect. If he is using cloaking technology as suspected, then he shouldn't have gotten very far from the compound."

It was then that the intercom on Laguna's desk sounded, and the President pressed a button just below it. "What is it?" He asked.

"Sir," came the voice of James' partner, Deilia Oakwood. "We have just received information that might prove beneficial to this investigation."

"We're all ears." Laguna said.

"First off, we have the murder weapon that was used to kill Mr. Anderson. We're holding it in the evidence room and are preparing to examine it. Also, surveillance cameras from thirty minutes before the first killing are being searched by our intelligence team as we speak."

"And the other?"

"Sir, we just finished interviewing the soldiers out at the front gate and one of them just told us something interesting. He says that at around two this morning, he spotted a man matching the description of the suspect approaching the building but that he let him in. Also, another pair of soldiers came forward and confessed they had spotted him entering the elevator shortly thereafter."

"He let in a murderer without confirmation?" James shouted through the intercom.

"Those soldiers will be hearing from me when I get my hands on them," the General barked out.

"That's what we asked him, James," Deilia said, seemingly ignoring the General's remark. "But he says that he recognized the man and allowed him in under the impression he had business with the President. The other two backed up this claim."

"And who did the soldiers say this man was?" Laguna asked, slightly unnerved by the notion of the murderer using him to receive access within the building.

On the opposite end, Deilia took a deep breath and slowly released it. "The soldier identified the man as Squall Leonhart."

* * *

**2:19:44**

* * *

The streets of Deling City had never been as quiet as they were that current afternoon. It being roughly half passed twelve, the citizens of the Galbadian Capital were either working at their day jobs, or recovering from a long night of partying and shopping. The only time the city became alive was during the night; where the lights illuminated the sky and outlined the various places the citizens and tourists would usually spend their time and money having a good time. Normalcy had finally returned to the city after the damning effects of the war had ruined their reputation. Most were still outraged that Esthar had been the one to come to their aid, since of course; the country was their mortal enemies of the last couple of decades at least.

The upcoming United Confederation was a common subject among the citizens; since, as it would stand, the group of peacekeepers would work further to prevent another war from breaking out. They would be the ones responsible for hiring SeeD to put an end to terrorist activities, and everyone could sleep soundly, ignorance blessing them with no knowledge on the matter whatsoever. Of course, this would mean that the Galbadian Army would not be nearly as active as they once were; however, there were still jobs out for them when they were finally off duty. The President of Galbadia for one hoped that it would help with the soldiers' disposition at the least.

Strolling just past the gateway towards the train station were six soldiers in total, three in front and the other three in back in a triangular formation. All were dressed in the same military fashion; a blue jumpsuit with metallic coloured armour over their elbows and knees. Metallic coloured boots protected their feet from stepping on pebbles or rocks that could be normally found on the ground, and metallic coloured helmets protected their heads from an attack. There was no military Major or Lieutenant leading them as the norm, but this didn't seem to deter any of the soldiers in the least. Walking in the very center of the group of armed military workers was a lone man with greying dark hair dressed in a simple black navy-blue business suit, a white shirt tucked in underneath with a black tie, and a pair of black loafers.

Several people surrounded their location, but wisely stayed where they were as the man and his team of six continued on their way past them. Of course, the man appeared to be important, and soon after the shock of his arrival wore off, the people returned to their conversations, appearing to wonder just why it was he was wondering about.

As soon as they emerged out from underneath the Gateway, the group of seven continued walking straight ahead. One of the soldiers, who was walking just to the left of the man behind him, turned his head as he asked his question. "How much further would you like to go, sir?"

The man walking behind the first group of three merely smiled and said, "As soon as we reach the Train Station, turn left. Then we'll walk back up through the city streets and return to the Presidential Residence."

The soldier nodded once again before returning his attention to in front of him. Addressing the soldier who was walking a bit in front of him, he told him of the man's plans and the other soldier acknowledged the order. Meanwhile, hiding within the lush plant life that would have otherwise been foreign to the City of the Night, sat a man dressed in a different assortment of greens. Pulling back his binoculars, he sighed as he switched on the headset that sat upon his head, allocating the targeting frequency and waiting for a moment to come into contact with someone. Soon after, a female voice resounded through the earpieces loud and clear. "What is it?"

"The subject is heading towards the Train station." He answered, speaking in an accent foreign to Galbadians ears. "Most likely, he'll take a left before moving back up again. Then he'll be out of alpha team's range."

The girl on the other end, whose accent was far more foreign than his, laughed lightly. "Don't be so high strung." She stated. "There is the bravo team on standby on the other side. I'll just alert them to keep an eye on him. I think they can handle giving the signal, don't you?"

The man frowned in response. "Do you remember the saying, 'if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself'?"

"Yeah, I remember. But with you, it's a way of life."

Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the seven soldiers that were just now walking past his line of vision. Checking his watch, he just realized the time, but that didn't mean that he could just take a lunch break if he wanted to. He had a job to do, and so did all the others that were stationed within the area.

"Hold on." The girl spoke after a moment. "I'm reading movement in your area."

"Is it any of ours?" he asked.

"Negative." She responded. "It looks like it's one of their's."

"Warn Bravo Team that there has been movement on this end and to proceed slowly so as not to give our location away." He ordered quietly. As soon as she acknowledged the order, he switched the signal on his communicator, waiting for the first person on his team to acknowledge him.

Another voice, with nearly the same accent as his, clearly spoke through the sound piece a moment later. "Alpha leader, this is Alpha second, over."

"Keep an eye on the perimeter. We have movement."

"Copy that." Was the response. "All units are standing by."

The man nodded, and pulled back on his binoculars. It looked as though the easy part came into play.

As the man and his escorts continued towards the Train station, they passed by a couple of tourists wearing sunglasses. Both were male, one of which had red hair and was dressed in a yellow and red tie-dye t-shirt and a pair of worn out blue jeans, while the other had long black hair and was wearing a tamer sky blue t-shirt with a pair of black jeans. The pair noted the man's departure, and after a moment quickly began to follow him. It only took them a moment to catch up to them, and before the soldier walking behind everyone else could react, the red-haired male already knocked him to the ground.

The other soldiers immediately turned around, two of them pulling back the man in the business suit as the remaining three prepared to defend him. The man with the black hair lunged forward, sweeping his feet underneath two of the soldiers, before flipping backwards to avoid being shot by the third. The soldier hefted his weapon accordingly, the bullets bouncing into the ground just as the dark haired male continued to back flip out of the way. He wasn't prepared to fend off the redheaded man, who held a taiser to the back of his neck, electrocuting him and rendering unconscious.

The remaining two soldiers levelled their weapons at the two males. The dark haired man landed in a crouch a few feet away from his partner, who was beginning to approach the group of three. One of the soldiers grabbed a hold of the man's arm and ushered him to the side just as the redhead leapt towards them, leaving the only soldier left to fend him off. The dark haired male made a run before jumping up onto his hands and springing himself up and overhead, landing just behind his partner and the soldier and then repeating the move so that he stood in front of the man and his sole protector. Both appeared shock stricken, which gave the dark haired man the opportunity to knock out the last remaining obstacle.

The man in the business suit appeared momentarily stunned at the action and tried to make a break for it. The redheaded man, however, pulled a weapon from his belt and fired it, a rope shooting out from the barrel, and wrapping around the man's legs. The redhead pulled on the gun and forced the man to trip and fall, landing roughly onto his stomach.

As the redhead moved to secure their prisoner, the dark haired man pulled out a black cell phone, dialled a number, and waited for someone on the other end to pick up. A moment later, someone did. "Mission accomplished." The man said. "We've secured the prisoner and we're going to finish the job."

The redhead stopped just behind the felled man, who looked back at him before quickly trying to pull off the ropes. The redhead grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled him up roughly onto his feet as his partner hung up the phone and slowly approached them. "So much for your entourage." He sneered. "They didn't do much for you anyway."

"Let's just get this over with." The dark haired man continued, pulling out a .6mm pistol from inside of his belt. "We're not getting paid by the hour."

"That's true." The redhead shrugged. Looking back at their prisoner, he frowned suddenly, turning the man's face to the left. What he saw there was a black vine-like tattoo that stretched the entire length of the left side of his face. "Since when did the President of Galbadia get a strange looking tattoo?"

"Since he fooled you guys into thinking that you actually had the President of Galbadia." The man responded, throwing a fist and connecting with the redhead's jaw. The man was thrown back by the force of the blow and landed roughly onto his back, his partner staring a gape as the man they had captured merely broke through the binding on his legs. Crouching into a fighting stance, the man smirked at the surprised expressions on his attackers faces. "Don't you just hate sting operations?"

Suddenly, from all sides, the attackers found themselves surrounded by SeeD personnel and Galbadian Special Forces, standard issued .9mm firearms held up at the ready. They had been equally divided around the perimeter, some hiding in bushes dressed in camouflage gear, while others merely appeared to be civilians. The man rose out of his fighter stance, gripped the top of his head, and pulled off the wig that he had been wearing revealing matted blonde hair.

Running his hands through his hair, Zell Dincht sighed loudly as the Galbadians and SeeDs advanced on the men who had raised their hands up in the air in surrender. "I was wondering when they were gonna make a move. That wig was killing my scalp."

Having forced the attackers to lie onto the ground handcuffed, Squall Leonhart confiscated the cell phone that the dark haired male had used before approaching the blonde fighter. "It couldn't be helped. You had to stay in character."

"Yeah, I know." He said, frowning as he did. "But it didn't mean I had to like it."

Rolling his eyes, Squall turned on the headset he was wearing. "This is the leader of Alpha Team. We have secured the prisoners and are awaiting further instructions."

"Nice job!" Selphie Tilmitt shouted from the other end. "I was actually beginning to wonder if that information we gathered was verified."

"Well apparently it was."

"How's Zell doing?" Selphie inquired.

"Complaining as usual, but otherwise he's fine." Squall said, glancing back and watching as Zell helped some of the Galbadian soldiers to their feet. Several other soldiers were also aiding in assisting their fallen comrades. "I guess it was a good idea we chose him for this mission after all."

"See? Everything turned out fine, Mr. Pessimistic. We'll be standing by for your return. And Squall?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure Zell doesn't hurt them. You know how seriously he takes the things people say."

Squall grunted in affirmation. He definitely remembered that fact about the brawler, which was why he had been unsure of whether their choice of using him as a decoy had been a good move. He disconnected the contact, and watched as the soldiers hefted their prisoners up to their feet.

Nodding affirmation to them, he was just about to give the order to return to headquarters when he noticed something out of place in the redheaded man's hands. Signalling for some of the soldiers to makes some distance from the prisoners, he pulled on the binoculars and zoomed in onto the device in the man's hands before his eyes widened. Taking off the binoculars, he backed away a couple of steps before shouting out to everyone else. "Get away from the prisoners and hit the deck!"

Everyone around him noted the seriousness of his tone and instantly dropped to the ground, the soldiers securing the prisoner torn between securing the prisoners and following orders. However, the time that they took to ponder about the situation was far too long as the device in the redhead's hands detonated; causing an explosion that knocked the surrounding people onto their backs. Dust and debris flew in every direction and when the dust finally settled, all that was left in the resounding area was crumbled bits of brick that had once been the road, and broken bodies littering the miniature crater.

Climbing back to his feet, Squall bit back a curse and resisted the urge to throw down his headset in utter frustration. As it currently stood, the attackers were dead, as were a couple of Galbadian Soldiers, and now there were back at square one.

_Well, not entirely…_ Squall thought to himself as he recalled the cellular phone that he had only just placed in the pocket of his jacket. Sighing, he re-established the connection he previously had, his frown deepening as he waited for Selphie to pick up the other end. Upon hearing her voice, he took in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "Cancel what I just told you. One of the men had a bomb that just detonated."

"So that's what that sound was…" Selphie said on the other end. "I got a read out that said a large sound wave existed within your current location. Did anyone get hurt?"

"Yeah…" Squall answered. "the attackers and two Galbadian Soldiers. All four were killed."

"So we're back right where we started." Selphie sounded melancholy, which was a definite change from her usual sunny disposition.

"Not necessarily. We found a cellular phone on one of the men. He recently used it to call their contact, so I think we can trace the origin of the call back to its source."

"Well what are you waiting for? Get back here!" With that, Selphie disconnected the contact.

Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Squall signaled to everyone within the area to return to headquarters. As his people and the Galbadians returned to the Presidential Residence, Squall took a lingering look back at the debris and destruction that had been caused. This operation was causing the Government of Galbadia millions for just repairing the damages caused in each task that was accomplished, and he knew that the President's patience, as well as the cabinet of Galbadia's, was not ever lasting.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, he turned away, heading back to headquarters. He had a feeling that when this day was over, he was going to have a serious migraine.

* * *

**2:28:05**

* * *

The central office at Balamb Garden had been rebuilt to its former glory. Of course, the entire third floor had been sanctioned off for the last four months, but the reconstruction had been worth the while. The pillar that rose up to the bridge was now shifted away from the window to allow more space within the lower level and the bridge had also been granted a makeover of sorts. The platform had been painted in the customary colours of Balamb Garden, instead of the dull, metallic mustard colour it had originally been, and guardrails had been placed to prevent the pilot and everyone else from falling the twenty meters it would take to get back to the ground.

Since the structure had been moved closer to the door, two offices were quickly built behind it. Both were roughly about the same size and shape, and belonged to Headmaster Cid and Commander Conrad Greenwood. When Squall had removed himself as Garden Commander, because of his credentials Conrad was an instant shoe-in to replace him. He took the job seriously, and focused most of his time on the numerous piles of paperwork that needed to be either sorted or handed out, since there was no longer any need for SeeD forces in war. However, his task, when the United Confederation was completed, would be to train SeeD to become the official peacekeepers of the world. Noted, SeeD did an excellent job as it stood, however the military force was originally a mercenary group and thus needed to be further trained in the field.

In his office sat Cid Kramer, the man who not only took charge of the Garden and its inhabitance for the better part of twenty years, but was responsible for its creation. He was a chubby middle-aged man with dark greying hair (of which he kept covering up with hair dye), silver spectacles and dark eyes. He was dressed in his favourite attire; which consisted of a white dress shirt with a stripped red and black tie, a pair of black pants, and a red vest overtop his shirt.

Currently, he was seated at his desk; writing up a list of SeeDs that would be present on the day the Confederation became official, before he placed down his pen and turned to look to the landscape that lay before him from his office window. Garden had come a long way since the day his wife, Edea Kramer, had come to him with the idea, and he was very fond of how things stood currently. Of course, things were not always this peaceful, but the course of ones journey was rarely ever easy. In addition, just because they were finally rid of the black sheep NORG, didn't mean the road traveled down would be any easier.

Currently, the Garden was suffering a building deficit, one of which Cid hoped to be rectified once SeeDs career was changed and established. There were not too many missions needed by SeeD anymore; having eradicated the majority of the monster threats within the world and isolating them onto their own respective islands, and having dealt with the Sorceress of the future Ultimecia. Of course, the world prospered because of it, but financially, Garden was falling apart. This career change was the only option left to keep Garden afloat now, the countries of the world footing the bill respectively, but in retrospect Cid felt the students and current SeeDs could do with a change of pace. Mercenary life wasn't all too glamorous, and many SeeDs failed to live past the age of thirty-five.

Sighing, Cid brought himself to turn away from the beautiful image of the ocean and trudged back to his desk to continue the task at hand. Just as he picked up his pen, however, the phone on his desk rang. Cid left it alone, knowing that Xu would be the one to answer it outside, but a moment later, Xu's voice patched in through the intercom. "Headmaster, you have a call on line one."

With his free hand, Cid pressed the intercom button located on his desk. "Tell them I'll take a message." Cid said, beginning to complete the list in front of him before picking up a file and discarding it onto another pile. "I'm busy making preparations for this Confederation."

"He says that it's urgent and that it could jeopardize the Confederation."

At this, Cid looked up; dropping is pen once again and frowning. "Who is it?"

"It's President Loire of Esthar."

Immediately grabbing onto his desk phone and pressing the button that would connect him to line one, he couldn't help but wonder what the problem was. "Cid Kramer."

"Hey Cid." Laguna said from his end. "Sorry this isn't a social call, but Esthar is currently in a state of emergency."

"How is that possible?!" Cid asked, alarm creasing his features. "I thought that everything was secure from your end. It was the last time we spoke."

"Yeah, I know. And it was, I swear! I looked through the reports with Kiros and they were fine. But that's not the issue here."

"Then what is it?"

"Roughly thirty minutes ago, five Estharian staff workers who were working on the Confederation project were murdered in cold blood by a guy that just waltzed right into the building, went to the floors and, well…you can guess what happened."

"So who do you suspect did it? And how can this jeopardize the project?"

Laguna sighed from where he was before speaking into the receiver once again. "It's not what I think that's the issue here. Everyone is jumping to conclusions over here, even though we haven't gone over the evidence yet! It's like Adel came back or something, which wouldn't be good considering it is Adel, but its technically impossible since you guys killed her, but weirder things have happened in the past, take for instance the sorceress from the future who was hell bent on destroying time…I wonder how that's possible…"

"Laguna, calm down." Cid said, shaking his head as he did. "You're going off topic again."

"Really?" Laguna asked. "Oops… sorry. I didn't even realize it this time. Old habits die hard I guess."

"Well, who does everyone else think is responsible for the attack?"

"That's the biggest issue at hand here!" Laguna said. "And I'd like to tell you, but I think Squall should be in the room to hear this too. Can you send him in real quick?"

Cid blinked curiously. He wondered what this whole thing had to do with Squall. "I'm afraid he can't right now. He's not at Garden currently."

"…Really?" Cid noted that the panic level in Laguna's voice seemed to double at least. "Oh, man…this looks really bad…do you know where he is?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Cid answered. "He's in Galbadia on a mission, although I can't tell you the details, of course."

Cid heard Laguna sigh in relief and that increased his curiosity even more. "Tell me…why did you panic when I told you he wasn't here?"

"…Because…everyone here thinks Squall's the one who did it."

Cid rose to his feet as soon as the words left the President's mouth, shock showing through to his facial features. "That's impossible. He's been stationed in that country for over two months now, and even still he wouldn't do anything of the sort unless it was under a contract."

"Yeah, I know that…but everyone else on my end doesn't." Laguna said. "I just wanted to warn you before we had to do something drastic."

"You mentioned that there was evidence. What was it?"

"It was a small knife; one used in close quarter fights. That's what the evidence team told me anyway. It was found lodged inside one of the men that were killed." Was the answer. "We don't know if it was SeeD issued or something else. But so far things are looking bad for him. There were also surveillance tapes of someone matching his description entering the building and getting of on the floor where the first victim was found."

Cid frowned. He sensed the President's discomfort within this situation, and understood exactly where it was coming from. Laguna might have been a father Squall never knew or had, but he still cared enough about him that this whole situation was making the man jump through hoops. "Well, I thank you for trying to warn him, and I will pass the message through. But Laguna, if you are found trying to help a man who's wanted for a murder like this, they won't be able to trust that your judgment is valid in this situation. I understand how you feel, but right now, you need to restore order within your government. You need to keep your head clear, but make sure to contact me when news of this situation comes to you."

"Alright…" Laguna responded, albeit hesitantly. "If you say so. I'll let you know when I get new information."

Cid acknowledged the response and both disconnected the conversation. His mind far beyond that of paperwork, Cid rested his chin on his clasped hands and allowed himself to fall into deep thought. If the Estharians were so intent to point a finger at a SeeD (one that saved their lives no more than four months ago to be precise), he knew that things were only bound to get worse. Squall was innocent; for that much Cid was certain. However, that still didn't mean that the Estharians, so angry about the whole incident, were about to sit down and listen to reason. He would need to take drastic measures.

* * *

Charles Orally had served his government for the last forty-five years. All of his suggestions had been pre-approved by the previous president as well as the current one, and he had dedicated himself to personally seeing through to his men's personal training. He had set aside plenty of hours just to make sure the soldiers of Esthar were not sluggish during battle and had personally resented it when it was revealed that they would hide from the world once Adel had fallen from power. Sure, he had stayed loyal to his country, but enough was enough!

Once they had discovered who the soldiers had believed the intruder had been, Orally had truly believed that the chances that justice would be served flew out the window with the suspect. He could tell just from the expression that had crossed the President's features; the man was biased because it was his son who was being accused of the murder. He'd left the office soon afterwards, knowing what it was that had to be done.

Of course, he had questioned the guard at the front to make sure that no mistake had ensued, and once confirmation had been made, he made it his purpose to make the man pay for it. Squall Leonhart's being a direct relative of the President of Esthar held no meaning whatsoever to him. He wasn't an Estharian citizen nor was he above the law. He had committed a heinous and serious crime, and even if they had to drag him back to Esthar from the pits of hell, he would make sure that the criminal was prosecuted to the highest extent of the law.

And if they got beat some sense into him along the way, it would make him feel a whole lot better.

Soon after confirming the ID, Orally had gathered his most trusted soldiers and ordered them to meet him at the Airstation no later fifteen minutes. Checking his watch, he realized that it was just coming up to twenty to three in the morning.

_Still less than an hour since the crime was committed._ He thought to himself before regarding his soldiers. So he was breaking the rules by not informing his superiors about the trip he planned to take. It didn't matter, but he was positive that they wouldn't care, just as long as they came back with the prisoner.

_He won't get away with what he did,_ Orally thought to himself. _His connection to his father will _not_ allow him to walk away from this._

"Sir." One of the soldiers said, coming to stand behind the General and saluting as soon as the man turned around. "The planes are ready to leave on your call."

The planes were made of a special alloy, which could withstand blasts of heat, blizzard, and any kind of missile-like weapons that were created by the other nations of the world, be it natural or magical. They were painted the customary silver and purple colours, but could easily become invisible, not unlike the uniforms worn regularly by the Estharian Soldiers, and could easily fit in at least half a fleet of soldiers aboard. Inside of the ship, two chairs sat in front of the controls for pilots, and three more decorated either side of the cockpit. Stationed in the next room was another room that was filled with more chairs, only these contained overhead straps to keep the soldiers in place. Each line of chairs sat on opposite sides of the room, so that the soldiers were facing one another.

"Excellent." He said, and dismissed the soldier before boarding the lead plane. Watching as the pilots strapped themselves in, he approached them, making sure that their destination was included in the navigational system before giving the go ahead. Soon after this, they lifted off, opening up the hanger doors before lifting off.

The General had seen to it that only one ship was being taken for this mission. He didn't believe that the criminal could take on the amount of men he was bringing along, SeeD or no SeeD, and it was also to delay the amount of time that it took for the President and anyone else finding out just what he had done. He didn't want to travel a quarter of the way just to have the President catch up to him and order him to pull over and return to base. He would stand for no interruptions until he return to Esthar with his objective having been fulfilled.

"Sir," The pilot said once they were in the air. He was dressed in the same uniform, only he was missing the helmet and had a miniature headset with a small microphone sitting in front of his mouth, and an earpiece located sitting over his left ear. "We should reach Balamb Garden within a half hour."

"Good." With that, the General headed back towards his troops. A final briefing was in order.

Walking through the sliding doors, he heard the whooshing sound they made as they closed behind him and folded his arms across his chest as every pair of eyes in the room turned to address him. Had they all not been strapped to their seats, they would have saluted him upon his entry. "Okay, listen up." He spoke, after taking a moment to see if anyone would speak out of line. "We are heading towards Balamb Garden on a covert mission. The objective is to apprehend a SeeD by the name of Squall Leonhart for questioning on his whereabouts an hour ago. He is the prime suspect for the crime of which occurred a little after two this morning, and we need to bring him in. Unfortunately, dead is not an option, so if you need to shoot at him, be careful. Now…any questions?"

"Sir!" One of the soldiers said, and he would have risen if not for the restraints. "Is that the name of the guy who fought against Ultimecia?"

At this point, the rest of the team within the room exchanged nervous glances. Knowing that the man they were looking for was powerful was enough of a means to worry about the proceedings of this mission. Not even batting an eyelash, the General knew that the questions would come. "That is correct. And before anyone asks. But we apparently need to prove to this man that he is not above our law just because he did the world a justice once. For all we know, that could have been a cover for his true motives. And that's why we need to bring him in.

"Think about the family members of the people whose lives were taken barely an hour ago." The General continued. "Think of the expression on their faces if we had to tell them that the man who killed those people was untouchable simply because of his assistance with us during the war. No one is above the law, and if we have to bash it into his skull for it to sink in, then so be it!"

Everyone else within the room cheered at the encouraging speech that was just presented to them. In their minds, they felt that no one should be able to walk away merely do to the threat a connection could serve to them. They could imagine what would happen if someone they cared about was murdered and how they would feel if the man or woman responsible got away with it simply because of who they were.

And with that, their objective was set in stone; apprehend the guilty party and bring him back to Esthar to prosecute to the highest ability of the law.

* * *

Upon entering the meeting room at the Presidential Residence in Galbadia, Squall, Zell, and a team of SeeDs and Galbadian Soldiers began their search for the President of Galbadia. The room was designed to withstand an attack from all sides, from underneath and from overhead.

The room was painted a mundane metallic blue, the desks and terminals all having been coated black to blend into their surroundings. Several people were station in front of the monitors, typing rapidly at their keyboards and occasionally taking a sip of coffee that sat within arms reach. Other people were busy looking through documentation that held important and very detailed information concerning the country and each city within Galbadian Rule. This no longer included Timber or Dollet, since after former President Vinzer Deling's death at the hands of a possessed Edea, and the recently elected their new President.

Once that was done, all operations that were currently being conducted on behalf of Deling were put on hold before the elections and were terminated afterwards. Timber was finally an independent Country once again, and now their newly created government was in the midst of electing their own governor. Also, Dollet was beginning to recover from the years they'd been forced to decrease their boarders while Galbadian territory increased.

The soldiers stayed at the very entrance of the room whereas the SeeDs continued forward, walking past the workers and heading towards an office that sat on a couple of spires and connected to the rest of the floor by means of a spiralling staircase, of which was painted black as well. They entered the office and immediately saluted the man who sat inside.

Ibrihim Caraway had not changed much since the beginning of the Sorceress War. He still had dark hair and greying strands at the sides of his head, however, instead of the usually trimmed uniform he wore as the General of the Galbadian Army, he was dressed in a black business suit and loafers; however, his shirt was a medium blue, the tie matching the black suit. He sat at his desk; his hands clasped together having already put aside the file he had been reading as he awaited the report.

Caraway nodded with his head once and all who were present in the room dropped from their initial stances. "Operative Tilmitt briefed me just momentarily with the details, but she also stated that you had a cellular phone that was confiscated from one of the suspects?"

Squall nodded in response before stepping forward, pulling the cell phone from his pocket, and placing it on top of the desk. "I think that we can use the number that was dialled to lead us back to the source of the phone call."

"Is there any chance that the contact could leave before you figure out the location?"

"There's always a chance, but it's highly unlikely." Squall answered before gesturing back at Zell.

"They were confirming the capture before we nailed them." Zell continued. "So at best, it should be about a half hour before whoever it is suspects that something went wrong. And even if it's sooner than that, they'd suspect that the cell phone was destroyed when the thugs blew themselves up."

Caraway looked to each of the SeeDs before nodding once. "Then that's the amount of time that you have. Have Operative Tilmitt trace the area code and then narrow it down as far as you can. You have five minutes at the most, but more than that, we can't afford to spare."

"Understood." Squall answered and, at this, the SeeDs saluted Caraway. A moment later, everyone filed out of the room, leaving Caraway alone with his thoughts.

As soon as everyone returned to the ground floor, the SeeDs accompanying the pair split off in separate directions, accessing unused terminals or picking up folders filled to the brim with documents and searching through them. Zell and Squall immediately headed towards a girl with brown hair that was held back into a ponytail. She was wearing a yellow halter-top underneath a navy blue denim jacket and a pair of black kaki jeans. Her shoes were standard white and black running shoes. Having noticed the two males approaching before they were within five feet of each other, she turned around in her seat, her emerald green eyes following their movements and revealing that the shorter strands of her hair, which also included her bangs, escaped the elastic band that kept the rest of her hair out of her face. She smiled widely at the both of them. "Having fun, guys?"

"No time." Squall cut in, standing off to her left. Zell stood behind her, folding his arms as he did. "We need you to track down an area code."

"To the cell phone, right?" Selphie asked, at this Squall nodded. "No sweat. How soon do you need it?"

"Less than five minutes." Squall answered, handing Selphie the cellular phone. "We need to be ready around then."

"Gotcha!" The brunette winked at Squall quickly before turning around to face the monitor screen once more. Picking up the phone, she pressed the display button before hooking it up to the computer and soon enough her fingers began to fly across the keyboard.

Zell grabbed a seat at the next monitor and linked his computer up to hers. When Squall gave him a curious expression, the brawler smiled and gave him the thumbs up. "Four eyes are better than two, right?'

Squall nodded and quickly left the area, heading towards the changing area. He figured that he should at least change clothes before the initial search. Three minutes later, he returned to the meeting room, clad in a pair of blue faded jeans, a white muscle shirt, and a black leather jacket. Rather than wear the familiar leather jacket with the fur collar, it was of a simple design. It still possessed a zipper at the front, but it didn't appear to be nearly as loose, and it reached to his waist rather than mid-chest. He still wore the combat boots to protect his feet from anything if he came up against someone, but mostly because he didn't own a pair of running shoes.

"Did you find anything?" He asked Selphie, running a hand through his hair before folding his arms across his chest.

"Damn right I found something." Selphie answered. "The area code I got was 4-3-5. There are three other area codes for the city though; each one for a separate sector."

Squall nodded. "I'll talk to Caraway about the possible locations."

"No need." Selphie said, stopping him. "I got Zell to run a quick scan of the city to pinpoint the location of the area code. He should be finishing up right about now."

"Booya!" Zell shouted in triumph, pumping his fist into the air.

"I take it you found something." Squall asked, immediately coming up beside the brawler.

"You're right, man." Zell acknowledged. "I narrowed down the location to around the Shopping District of the city."

"Any precise location?" Squall asked and Zell shook his head.

"It's within a three mile radius of the place, which includes a section of the Deling City Park and the theatre district. I can't pinpoint it exactly..." Zell began to type on the keyboard.

"It's good enough. Get changed. We leave in two." With that, Squall left to recruit the necessary group of SeeDs and Galbadians to accompany them on the raid.

Zell and Selphie exchanged glances before Selphie shrugged in response. "You heard the man."

"Right…" Zell said, grabbing a hold of the either pant leg and lifting it up to reveal that the brawler was currently standing on a couple of wooden stilts. It had been for the mission, since Zell wasn't exactly the same height as the President. "Wouldn't wanna end up fighting on these things."

Selphie giggled. "I was wondering why you were taller than Squall."

Zell rolled his eyes and retreated towards the changing area to dress in clothes that were more comfortable.

"I'll tell Caraway what's going on!" She shouted after the blonde. Zell waved behind him, signalling that he heard her and she rose to her feet, heading towards the Presidential Office.

* * *

**2:47:23**

* * *

Immediately entering the Headmaster's office, Quistis Trepe frowned in worry. She had never been called up upon the announcement speakers unless it was during combat. The blonde SeeD stepped into the middle of the room just in front of the Headmaster's desk and fell into formation. Quistis wasn't a small girl, but she wasn't tall either, her height sitting at five and a half feet. Currently, she was dressed in her SeeD uniform, which consisted of a black jacket overtop a white tank top and matching skirt that reached to her knees. Her black boots reached up to the knee, and her long blond hair was tied back in a professional looking bun.

The Headmaster nodded to her once and she immediately dropped the stance. "May I ask why I've been called up here sir?"

Cid sighed once before turning his full attention to her. "At two a.m. Esthar time, someone entered the Presidential Residence and murdered five people in cold blood before fleeing the building. They haven't been able to locate him since. He did however leave behind a knife inside one of his victims. Also, there was surveillance footage of the suspect entering the building and riding in the elevator prior to the incident."

"Sir, what does this have to do with SeeD?" Quistis asked, becoming a bit unnerved.

"Esthar believes that Squall was the one who committed the crime."

Quistis blanched at the information, taken aback. With the Unite Confederation being held in a month's time, this situation could jeopardize the peace talks and could even lead to another war. "But Squall would never kill without a contract, let alone in cold blood. He's distant, but never a cold blooded killer."

"I know this, and so does the Laguna." Cid explained. "Unfortunately, his government doesn't and they are the ones with the accusations. So far, nothing has happened, but this whole situation could lead to worse things. As the student councillor Quistis, I need you to keep the students and SeeDs within the building from learning the full details until the situation has been resolved. That means that information is strictly on a need to know basis."

"But what about Rinoa and Irvine?" Quistis asked. "Don't they have a right to know what's happening?"

Cid paused momentarily before clasping his hands together atop of the desk. "I understand how you feel, and under any other terms, I would advice that you let them know. But I don't want to cause any sort of panic from them. Rinoa is an overly emotional person and, with her powers, I'm afraid something might end up happening that would cause more problems. Hopefully, this whole thing will be resolved quickly."

Quistis frowned at the prospect of keeping information from her friends, especially when one of them was intimately involved with the person involved. Quistis understood the bond that tied Squall and Rinoa together, and she knew that neither one wanted to keep secrets from each other.

Unfortunately, she also knew that the Headmaster had a valid point not to tell them. Even though she was receiving training from Edea Kramer, Rinoa's control over her power was still slight if anything. Who knew what would happen if the girl lost her temper and her control. It didn't even need to be pointed out that Irvine would be compelled to notify Rinoa of the situation, so that left him out of the loop as well.

Still, something bothered her about this whole thing. "But isn't Squall stationed in Galbadia?"

"Yes, and we have not had any missions concerning him since he was sent out to Deling."

Quistis frowned in confusion. "Then how is it possible that he killed those people?"

"The simple answer is that it isn't." Cid explained. "However, the Estharian Government is in no condition to listen to reason. They believe that, since the surveillance tapes have captured a man who looks like Squall then the perpetrator has to have been Squall. The best we can do at this point in time is to keep everyone in the Garden from jumping to conclusions. At least until we've sorted out this mess."

"Somehow, I don't think it'll be that easy." Quistis commented.

"I know." Cid nodded. "Whoever is responsible has obviously thought through countless variables, and is trying to drive a wedge between Esthar and the Gardens. In any case, we need to be prepared for the consequences."

"Consequences?" Quistis asked.

"Given the circumstances, we have to assume that the Government will eventually be after Squall's arrest. Thus, we cannot risk allowing him to remain stationed in Deling City for very much longer, which is why I contacted Nida, and notified him to prepare the Ragnarok. He will be leaving the Garden, heading westbound to the Galbadian Capital shortly and will notify Squall of the situation upon arrival."

"Sir, with all due respect, don't you think that the information would be better received if it came from someone he trusted?" Quistis realized that she had spoken her thoughts out directly, especially when she noticed the Headmaster's eyebrow rise. "I'm quite sure that Squall trusts Nida, but both of us also know that he has issues with the subject. Only those close to him have earned the sort of trust that he needs, and I personally believe that one of his friends should be there when he finds out what is going on."

"I understand how you feel, Quistis." Cid said, removing his glasses and cleaning them with his shirt. "And I know exactly what you are proposing, but right now, you are needed at the Garden."

"I'm sure that Dr. Kadowaki can deal with the student body, and if the need comes that she requires assistance, I'm positive that Xu would be more than happy to keep the peace. She's been capable of doing so in the past."

Cid replaced his spectacles to their place in front of his eyes and stroked his chin in deep thought. Quistis watched him, frowning as the time passed between them. Finally after what felt like an eternity, Cid looked up and met the younger girl's gaze before taking in a deep breath. "Alright. You may go with Nida on this rescue mission. I have a feeling that you would have gone even without confirmation, although it is unlike you."

Quistis nodded, confirming the elder man's suspicions. "Then you should hurry. Meet Nida at the front Gate within the next ten minutes. The Ragnarok is located outside. Whatever new information I receive will be sent to the both of you immediately."

Quistis saluted the headmaster once again, this time with a grateful grin. She had hoped he would have given her permission. After all, she had grown up with Squall when they were little, and once again when she had joined Garden. She couldn't imagine what would happen to him, and the real reason she had wanted to tag along was to make sure that he was safe. Her feelings as his older sister were strong, especially now when she knew he could be in trouble.

Turning around, she headed out of the office while Cid picked up the phone and contacted Nida once again.

* * *

Selphie had just given the ground team the exact location of where their target was, and immediately the team proceeded towards the structure. Selphie activated the cameras that had been stationed throughout the city in order to properly monitor them from her current location. So far, everything was proceeding smoothly, which put her on alert. The Trabian raised girl knew from past experiences that if an operation appeared to be moving perfectly that something must be wrong. Switching camera angles, she was relieved to know that she could still see the ground team perfectly. If she was to do her job properly, she needed to have constant supervision of the group.

Suddenly, Paul Dobs, one of the original technicians that worked with the government, walked over towards the small SeeD before she looked up to acknowledge him, giving him half of her attention while keeping the other half on the computer module in front of her. "What is it?" she asked.

"There was something odd that I detected in the Galbadian Airspace approximately fifty minutes away." Paul explained. "I pinpointed it and it looks like a strange blur."

"Can't you deal with it?" Selphie asked. Normally, she would be willing to help out, but right now her mind was on her current job. "I'm kinda busy right now."

"I normally would, but the President gave us orders to process things through you because of the training you received in data analysis. I don't think we should leave it to wait."

Selphie drummed her fingers lightly on the keyboard for about half a second before nodding. "Alright, send them over. But I need you to keep an eye on the ground team."

Paul nodded once before returning to his own desk and within a minute, an image that had been taken by the cameras of which had been set up to view Galbadian Airspace appeared on her screen. The cameras had been given by the Estharian Government as per the peace contract established once work began on the United Confederation project. Anything that flew by the airspace was immediately photographed and documented by the technicians involved in that category.

Cracking her knuckles, Selphie brought up the image and inspected it. Although Paul had said he noticed something odd about the image, Selphie's eyes were fully enhanced by her junctions. If something were out of the ordinary, then her eyes would be able to detect it.

And indeed she did. The 'blur' that Paul had mentioned turned out to be light reflecting off of something in midair. Selphie raised an eyebrow at the image before enlarging it. Upon doing so, she frowned as she realized that the light that reflected off the object was blocking her way. Obviously the reason the light rebounded was because it bounced off metal due to the camera's angle, but that didn't mean that she couldn't see what this metal was connected to. She had her suspicions but she figured that she would analyze it further. But that still didn't mean she couldn't warn the team.

Pressing a button on the small screen which was located on the monitor, she waited as it sent her a directory list of everyone within reach of their computer. Scrolling the list quickly, she located the ID number she was searching for and immediately patched into the man who was busy staring at his screen and typing something. "Daniel, I need you to patch me into the ground teams communications frequency."

On the other end, Daniel nodded and signaled to her to give him a moment to patch her through. When that moment passed, he gave her the thumbs up before she pulled on her headset, taking a moment to berate herself for not doing so in the first place. "Ground team, this is the Presidential Residence speaking, please respond."

"Ground team here." Squall's voice patched in almost immediately after she finished her sentence. Sometimes, his predictability was a trait that came in handy. "What is it?"

"Ground team, we have just established that something foreign just entered Galbadian Airspace approximately less than five minutes ago. We don't have confirmation as to what it is, but it is advised that your team proceed with caution. It could be a carrier to meet with the target."

"Ground team copies. We will proceed with extreme caution."

"I know you will." Selphie said, breaking out of the formal speech. She hated it when she had to use it. "Keep safe and contact me if you see anything out of the ordinary." Immediately after she finished speaking, the contact was disabled.

Sighing at the predictable nature behind Squall Leonhart, Selphie contacted Paul with the information she had picked up. "I'll decipher the image as best as I can and contact you with the results. Just keep an eye on those monitors."

"Will do." Paul said, genuinely thankful. "Thanks a lot, Selphie."

"No problem!" She winked before turning off her monitor. Stroking her chin thoughtfully, she didn't like the fact that whatever the image was possessed cloaking capabilities. The only country that possessed such technology was Esthar, but she knew that no one from Esthar had mentioned anything about a visit, nor did the Galbadians sanction such an action.

This information put her on further alert. If Esthar was up to something, did that mean that there would be another conflict between the two superior countries? She wondered if Sir Laguna had any idea as to what was occurring and if so what his reasons behind these actions were.

But if he wasn't the one responsible for the unexplained visit, then did that mean that there were people working outside of his control? What reasons would invoke such a response from the Estharian Government? She didn't even know if it was a war carrier or if it was just a visitor craft, but she figured it would be better to be safe than to be sorry. Sighing, she stood up from where she sat and quickly headed towards the Presidential office.

Upon approaching the door, she sighed in relief that he was the only one inside before knocking and opening the door, letting herself in. Caraway looked up from his reports just as Selphie saluted him. He nodded and she returned to an informal stance. "Sir, one of the aerial cameras took a picture of something flying into Galbadian Airspace approximately five minutes ago."

"Do you know what it is?" Caraway asked and Selphie shook her head.

"But I do have an idea of what it could be, although it's only a suspicion. The image that Paul sent me from his terminal portrays the sky, but a reflection of light bounced off what could be presumed as a metallic surface. If my guess is correct, then that would mean that the craft flying into the country would have to be cloaked."

"And the only country who has cloaking capabilities is Esthar." Caraway concluded. "Alright, have you warned the ground team?"

"Yes, and they're on high alert now, but I didn't explain the possibility that they could be Estharian. I wanted to make sure before I made such a statement."

"What do you have in mind?" Caraway asked.

"Well, since the Galbadian carriers have been grounded since the Sorceress War four months ago, that means that the only ship that has taken to the air is the aircraft detected. Since Esthar ships computers are run on data microchips, then I believe it would be possible to track their location and destination. I might even be able to listen into their operation if I can get through to the audio section of the ship."

"Good. Go do that now. I want a report immediately after you are finished."

"Yes sir." Selphie immediately saluted the President before leaving the room and heading back to her own terminal. She had work to do and no time to waste doing it.

* * *

**_3:00:00_**


	2. Hour 2

_**

* * *

**_

02/01/2007:

* * *

This will probably be the last author's note for a while (up until I find something I need to talk about). That being the case, I'm also going to make this quick. Do not be alarmed by the decrease of the chapter length; chapters will probably fluctuate over and under the ten-thousand word mark. If anything, none of the chapters will be less than nine thousand words. It also means that chapters will be far and few between when it comes to posting, but I hope that won't be a problem (what am I saying? No one's even reviewed yet...). For now, please enjoy the chapter.

**The following takes place between 3am and 4am in Esthar Time.  
****Events occur in real time.**

* * *

As soon as Zell had finished changing his attire, both he and Squall had rallied up two more SeeD members as well as a total of twelve members of the Deling city police to accompany them. By that time, Selphie had been able to narrow down the search further, and had explained to everyone that the location was now isolated within less than a mile radius. Having already spoken to Caraway about the details, the President had given the okay and everyone had headed out not a moment sooner. Selphie and the other three SeeDs returned to their monitors with the intention of tracking their movements as they neared the location, while the soldiers stationed in front of the door split up to protect the perimeter, to prevent an attack on the President from occurring. The team heading towards the Shopping District moved quickly, allowing them to arrive at their destination within the span of five minutes.

The Shopping Plaza was a sight to be seen during the night, but during the day, it didn't appear to be nearly as impressive. The buildings were melded into each other, creating a simplistic atmosphere. Some of the buildings had makeshift roofs over the front, to try to set themselves apart from the rest of the shops within the vicinity. The buildings were painted a pale peach colour that resembled a slight beige undertone. Black lampposts were set up every third section of the sidewalk to illuminate the area during the hours the sun was no longer in the sky.

Unlike the police, who were still dressed in their uniforms, the SeeDs were dressed slightly more casually. Zell was dressed in a pair of navy blue shorts that reached up to his knees, and a black muscle shirt underneath a dark red jacket-shirt that sat undone. His hair was spiked up once more, and he wore a pair of black running shoes. Over each of his hands was a pair of black and red studded knuckle gloves, of which past opponents could verify could pack a punch. The other two SeeDs were dressed in a pair of black jeans; however, one wore a dark green sweatshirt while the other wore a navy blue t-shirt. Each wore different running shoes; one with the majority white and blue with the other being red and black. One of the SeeDs had dark red hair that could almost be mistaken as auburn cut short and spiked up in all directions, and the other had jet black hair that reached up to his shoulders.

Regardless of dress, all four of the SeeDs were wearing a grey over-jacket, signifying their status with the Galbadian authorities, with a concealed .6mm pistol sheathed in the inside pocket. They also possessed a 9.mm pistol each on a strap tucked inside of their boots or on their leg, in case of emergency. Of course, each fighter also had their preferred weapon concealed as well.

Just after Caraway had been briefed on the group's motives, he had inconspicuously stationed normally off duty personnel in the area they were heading to block off traffic as well as the escort the civilians out of the area, so as to prevent any casualties during the execution of the mission. Thus was the reason for the lack of people within the vicinity. Even the men usually stationed by the bus stops were no longer there. This suited them just fine.

Squall activated the headset that sat on his head and adjusted the frequency he was using before speaking into the microphone. "Can you hear me?"

"Yep! Loud and clear Squally!"

Squall slapped himself in the forehead. "Don't call me that…"

"Tee-hee…sorry, I couldn't resist. But yeah, I can hear you."

"Good. Have you located the actual building the subject is in?"

"Sure have." Selphie replied. "They're staying at the hotel, somewhere on the second floor, but I'm not all that positive of which room."

"That's fine. We'll look ourselves, but the moment you find the location, contact me."

"Alright."

Selphie cut off the transmission and Squall turned to address the team. "The suspect is staying at the hotel. Let's go."

Upon arriving at the affluent building, The Galbadian Soldier who was stationed outside was just about to prevent them from entering the building, but upon seeing the officers escorting the group, he backed off and saluted them as they walked through the front door.

The front hall itself was extravagant; a chandelier hovering from the ceiling above their location as a staircase spiralled downstairs to the bar. Squall remembered this place all too well; it had been the first time he'd been sent to the past through Laguna Loire that he had set foot in this place. The floors were finely waxed, a red carpet placed along the entryway and along the stairs. An elevator was positioned behind the front desk, where the receptionist – a short dark haired woman dressed in red, black and white – stood waiting for more patrons. However, as she took in their presence, she rose to her feet, even as the bell girl emerged from around the corner and approached them. "I'm sorry, but your presence here is going to scare our guests."

"That's just too bad." Zell responded.

"We need to search the hotel." Squall explained as one of the officers flashed his badge. "We're under orders from the President. If you want confirmation, call him yourself, but we have a job to do." With that, Squall, Zell and the other SeeDs headed past the two girls, who feebly tried to prevent their entry. However, two of the police officers stood in their path, preventing them from interfering.

Squall signaled for the black haired SeeD to take three officers with him to check the lobby and signaled for another nine to accompany the remaining three up the stairs. The rest of the officers knew exactly what to do, since they were left in the lobby.

* * *

Once Squall had cut off contact, Selphie had continued checking out the serial number of the plane, trying to trace it so that she would be able to determine the frequency the Estharians were using. Paul had returned to his desk, issuing a warning to the aircraft that they were entering Galbadian airspace. Somehow though, Selphie doubted they were willing to listen.

The only reason she could tell for sure that would explain why she felt that way was that they had to be searching for something. If they wouldn't listen, then that something had to be seriously important enough for them to risk nullifying the treaty between Esthar and Galbadia. With those thoughts in mind, the SeeD successfully discovered which frequency the Estharian aircraft was using and hacked in, pulling on a headset so that she would be able to listen.

They didn't seem to be deterring from their landing point and, curious, Selphie figured that the best bet was to trace the location and figure out their current destination. She wasn't too concerned with eavesdropping on their conversation at the moment, and placed the notion on hold just in case something did come up.

So far, she had traced the current location of the Estharian craft, but she was still trying to focus in on their current destination. Finally sighing out of frustration, she looked over to where Paul was sitting, which was nearby. "Hey Paul, give me a hand here. I'm trying to find out where this ship is headed."

"What do you need me to do?" Paul asked.

"Boost my system with a little more power. It should only take another minute for me to search."

Paul nodded and began to quickly type on his keyboard. Suddenly, Selphie took notice that the power indicators on the bottom right hand corner of the screen had increased, and she continued her search. After another moment, Selphie shrieked in joy and clapped her hands before returning her gaze to the monitor.

"I take it you found what you were looking for."

"Yep." Selphie nodded before immediately calming down and frowning. "Uh oh…"

"What's 'uh oh' mean?" Paul asked.

"Well, I just found out where the Estharians are heading." Selphie answered. "Their heading towards this city."

"But why would they come here? They don't have any real reason to come to this country, let alone this city."

"Yeah, I know. I'm trying to patch into their audio systems to figure out what they could want. But I'm going to warn the ground team before I look for anything else."

"That might be a good call."

Selphie smiled at him briefly before re-establishing the link she had with the ground team. "Ground Team, this is the Presidential Residence. I just discovered that the aircraft that was located a few minutes ago was an Estharian aircraft."

"What would Esthar want with Galbadia?" Squall asked from his end.

"I don't know, I'm in the process of figuring that out now. All I know is that they're heading towards the city. I don't know where in the city, but as soon as I find out, I'll definitely let you guys know."

Squall gave Selphie the affirmative before cutting off the transmission. Selphie nodded to herself once before redirecting her gaze to the screen. However, she suddenly noted that there was a difference in the frequency that she used as soon as she cut off the contact, and she began tracing the source, her fingers flying along the keyboard. Paul looked over and noticed the look of determination on the girl's face. "What is it now?"

"I noticed something odd when the transmission cut off from the ground team." Her eyes didn't even leave the monitor screen. "I'm tracking its movements now."

"Let me help you." Paul suggested. "Give me access to you module; I'll help you search."

Selphie moved her right hand to the number section of the keyboard and typed in the computer code before sending the frequency over to Paul's computer. The confirmation icon appeared in the center of her screen, but was immediately minimized before she returned to work. After a few minutes, Selphie noticed the difference in the flow of the message, and entered a code which allowed her access into the audio feeds.

"Any luck so far?" Paul asked.

"Not yet. I just got into the audio feeds. You should do the same."

She didn't even bother to listen for a response as she immediately delved into the files, searching for anything out of the ordinary. After a moment, she noticed that the feed was attached to some form of connecting code, and upon further search, she realized to her horror what it was. Looking over her shoulder back at Paul, the expression on his face told her he had come to the same conclusion as she had.

"They've hacked into our systems…" Paul muttered out loud. "Which means that they were looking for something within the city."

"And whatever it is…" Selphie finished. "We led them straight to it."

* * *

**3:09:54**

* * *

Nida Kent sat in the pilot seat of the Ragnarok; the Estharian ship that was given to Balamb Garden to thank them for their efforts in the previous war. The ship was in the shape of a tailless red dragon, metallic in make, which was appropriate as it was based on a Centarian Dragon myth. The hanger was located at the back of the ship, with a sliding door and a platform summoning itself down, allowing the occupants to enter or exit safely. There were four overhead windows situated on the ship, three on what would be considered the arms and the body of the ship, and one on the head. The head was in actuality the cockpit, whereas the body was the conference room, and the other two were air rooms, which astronauts had used to leave the ship while it was in space.

Glancing at the map located to his left, he heard the lift activate, which meant that Quistis was returning to the cockpit. In all honestly, Nida didn't mind having someone else tag along on the rescue mission; in fact, he believed that it would drown out the all-too quiet atmosphere that usually held residence within the large ship. However, ever since they had left Balamb Garden, Quistis had been quiet, possibly trying to either figure out why Esthar would place the blame on someone who had been stationed on the opposite side of the world for the last two months, or sorting through her own personal feelings. Everyone in Garden had known all about Quistis' crush on Squall, even before the aloof teenager had figured it out (which Nida held no doubt that he had), but as soon as Rinoa had come into the picture, Quistis had backed off. Nida had no idea exactly how the other SeeD felt about that, not having voiced too much of an opinion on the matter, and the pilot understood that it was none of his business. Instead, his job was the fly the former spaceship towards Deling City.

Nida wasn't a very tall person, just barely reaching Quistis' height. He had short dark hair and dark eyes and was dressed in his SeeD uniform, similar to Quistis', albeit a pair of black pants replaced the skirt that the girls had to wear.

"How much longer to Deling City?" Quistis asked, breaking the silence and sitting in the co-pilots seat. She too had been trained to pilot the Ragnarok, and she understood that it was her duty to assist the pilot if anything went wrong.

Mentally sighing in relief, Nida glanced at her through the corner of his eye. "We left in pretty good time, so I'd say our ETA would be about an hour, two if we're not lucky."

"Can't the Ragnarok go any faster?" She asked.

Nida shook his head in response. "'Fraid not, but it's the absolute best we've got. You know as well as I do that any other form of transportation would take about a day and a half to reach Deling City. Esthar's technology is far more advanced than that of any other civilization. We're just lucky that no one was using Ragnarok for a mission."

Quistis frowned in response. "But Esthar's ships are even more advanced than the Ragnarok!"

"I know that. The Ragnarok is about twenty years old now."

"Which makes Esthar's ships faster." She slumped in her seat. "The Estharians might already be on their way to Deling as we speak."

"Don't worry; the Headmaster has probably warned the team by now. And besides," Nida said. "How do you know that the Estharians are heading towards Deling? They might think that Squall's still in Garden and plan to arrest him there."

Quistis nodded, but Nida could tell that what he had just said hadn't made her feel any better. As far as Nida knew, Quistis became depressed very easily, and it was difficult to get her to look on the bright side of things when that happened.

Suddenly, the light located in the center of the dashboard in front of the two began to blink on and off, the red light illuminating the room when lit. Nida knew exactly what it was; someone was contacting them and from the looks of it, it appeared that the transmission was coming from Balamb Garden. Thankful for a distraction from the depressing conversation, Nida flipped a switch and initiated contact.

"Ragnarok, please respond." The headmaster said from his end.

"This is Ragnarok, we hear you, over." Nida said in as neutral sounding a tone he could gather.

"The situation just became a lot worse."

Quistis leaned forward in her seat as Nida blinked. "Sir?"

"The President of Esthar just contacted me a moment ago. The Estharian General has taken it upon himself to dispatch a team of soldiers and is heading towards the Galbadian Capital."

"Sir, how is it possible that they know where the target is?" Quistis asked.

"We are currently looking into that, but we suspect that foul play had a part in it."

"You mean there could be a traitor?" Nida jumped in.

"That is a possibility, but I suspect that someone from within Estharian territory managed to hack into our audio directory and listened into the call I had with Laguna when this situation initially began."

"So what you're saying is despite the reasoning, they know that Squall is in Deling and is heading in their direction?"

"Affirmative." Cid said. "Which means that you had better hurry and find Squall before the Estharians do. According to Laguna, they should arrive in Deling within the next five minutes."

"But sir, we're flying at the fastest speed the Ragnarok can move at, and it's still going to take us over an hour to arrive." Quistis said.

"I know Quistis. Hopefully, they won't find him before you arrive."

This time, it was Nida's turn to frown. Things had just become more complicated than he had hoped.

* * *

"So the Estharians are currently en-route to the city," Caraway confirmed. "and they're using the radio frequency we're currently using with the Ground Team to lead them here."

Both Selphie and Paul nodded their affirmation. It had been barely five minutes ago that they had discovered the situation, and both appeared grim. "Which means that we can't use the same frequency to contact them, otherwise we'll just be leading the Estharians straight to them."

"Do you have any idea why they would be tracking this team?" Caraway asked.

"No idea at all sir," Paul jumped in. "We only discovered that they hacked into our systems a few minutes ago. According to estimates, they've entered the country, and will probably be within the city limits in a matter of minutes."

"How many minutes?"

"Less than ten." Selphie answered. "I'm absolutely positive."

Sighing, Caraway clasped his hands together in deep thought. "There has to be a reason why the Ground team is being targeted. The Estharians wouldn't act without a reason." Looking up at the two, he collected his thoughts before speaking again. "Selphie, return to your module and type in the code BXF/93. It'll immediately order all ground units to change to a secondary frequency. You'll be able to patch onto them as soon as they contact you to make sure the connection is sound. Once the ground team has done this, report to them the current situation and advise them to be on alert. Time is of the essence and we have none to waste."

Selphie nodded before saluting and exiting the room. Caraway then turned his attention towards Paul. "Paul, continue tracking the Estharian ship. I want to know the moment they land on Galbadian soil. Then issue a warning to the Galbadian authorities closest to the Estharians positions to be on high alert. I do not want the Estharians reaching the ground team. Use as many people on the floor as you need."

Paul nodded once before leaving the room and returning to his module. Caraway frowned thoughtfully as he was left alone. _Why would the Estharians risk invading Galbadian Territory?_

After taking a moment to ponder the Estharians actions, he approached the far wall of his office. The room was made out of plexy-glass, with made the room durable against bullet shots. This also served to allow the President the luxury of watching his people work on the floor below him. Both Selphie and Paul had returned to their stations, the latter gathering members of his own work team in order to keep track of the Galbadians while the former spoke animatedly through the headset she slid on. It was no longer about the President's safety, but about the invasion of Galbadia's former enemy.

Returning to his desk, he was just about to pick up the phone and patch a connection through to Balamb Garden when the phone lit up. Just as he was about to ignore it and make his call, a woman dressed in a dark purple business suit poked her head into the room. She had long dark hair that reached just past her shoulders and hazel eyes. "Sir, there's a call for you on line three."

Sighing, Caraway immediately picked up the phone, pressing the button that would connect him to line three. "Yes?"

"Ibrihim." A familiar sounding voice said. "We need to talk."

Caraway sighed. It was just the man he was about to call. "Headmaster Kramer. I was just about to call you. We have a situation here involving the Estharians, and we may need to establish a contract to escort them out of Galbadian Territory."

"Yes, I'm fully aware of the situation." Cid spoke. "Unfortunately, they are working against the orders of their own president."

"What's going on, Cid?" Caraway asked.

"At approximately two a.m. Estharian time, a man entered the Presidential Residence and murdered five employees. The suspect got away before he could be apprehended."

"I fail to see how this connects with Galbadia."

"It doesn't. It seems that your country was involved because the man they are looking for is within your country. While it may not have anything to do with your government, it directly involves SeeD and, most especially, Balamb Garden."

"They believe that one of your operatives was responsible for the attack?" Caraway asked in shock. He knew that the Balamb Team stationed in Deling had nothing to do with the attacks, since they'd been stationed under his command for the last two months already.

"Not just anyone…" Cid continued. "They believe that Squall was directly involved. In fact, they believe he is the one responsible for conducting the murders."

"I can say, without any doubt, that he was here the entire time he has been stationed with the Galbadian government." Caraway said, frowning deeply. "He is not their murderer."

"The Estharian General doesn't believe this, and he's enlisted a group of soldiers to accompany him to the city." Cid explained. "He's doing this against the Estharian President's orders. He believes that because of Laguna's relation to Squall, that he's lost his focus on the situation."

"Well they can't touch him if he's under Galbadian protection." Caraway pointed out.

"Don't involve yourself in this, Ibrihim." Cid said. "This is strictly an Esthar-Garden conflict. The last thing anyone needs is for Galbadia to become involved; that would jeopardize the preparations for the Confederation even more than they have been already."

"With all due respect, Cid, Esthar dragged Galbadia into this situation when they appeared in our air space and hacked into a communication frequencies. I can't just allow them to barge into this country while I'm in charge and apprehend an agent who is currently working under Galbadian Rule. That would jeopardize the current situation that has been occurring over here."

"They did what?" Caraway could hear the frantic tone in the headmaster's voice. "That is a breach in the agreement that the countries of the world forged."

"And now you understand why I can't just stay idle in this situation." Caraway spoke with a determined tone. "So I will do whatever is within my power to aid you in whatever it is that you have planned."

There was a pause and as Caraway waited patiently for Cid to say something, he couldn't help but wonder the how Rinoa was holding up throughout all of this. Her boyfriend was being targeted by a government run by the boy's own father, for a crime he hadn't even committed.

Finally, Cid's voice returned to the conversation once again. Caraway understood that Cid was hesitant in Galbadia's involvement, as it could mean the end of peace talks altogether, but he just could not sit back and allow his country to be invaded like this. "I've already sent the Ragnarok to the city. It should be there in less than two hours. I need you to somehow contact Squall and warn him about the Estharians as well as their current objective."

"Squall knows about the Estharians, but I certainly plan to warn him of the further details. We discovered the Estharians were hacking into the frequency used to communicate with the ground team, so I'm having Operative Tilmitt change that frequency in order to brief the team on the details. As soon as she's done that, I'll have her patch me to Operative Leonhart, in which I will explain the situation further."

"Thank you Ibrihim." Cid said sincerely.

"Just one more question, Cid." Caraway asked before the elder man could hang up. "How is Rinoa holding up through all of this?"

Caraway could hear Cid taking a deep breath before slowly letting it out. "We haven't told your daughter what is happening yet; mainly to prevent her powers from becoming unstable, but also to preserve her state of mind. We don't want to alarm her when it could all end well."

Caraway nodded to himself. He knew how Rinoa would react if she knew. She would insist on trying to help, but with her lack of control over her newly acquired powers, she might end up doing far more harm than good in the end. "Alright…try to keep it that way for as long as you can. If she finds out, then there's no need to keep it from her any longer."

"Of course." Cid said. "Good luck."

Caraway smiled sincerely, despite the situation. "Likewise."

* * *

Checking his watch, General Orally noted that it was currently twenty after four in the morning. However, from where they currently were, he also noted that Galbadia was approximately ten hours behind Esthar time, which explained why it was bright out considering the late hour Orally's team had just arrived from.

The plane was just preparing to land in the fields just outside of the Galbadian capital, Deling City. Of course, he understood that not notifying the Galbadian Government before their arrival was a serious breech of the treaty that was signed after the Sorceress War, but he also knew that time was a luxury that they could not afford. So what if he pissed off a few Galbadians? As long as his job was completed, he figured he could sleep soundly throughout the night.

"Sir…" the pilot said, breaking the General out of his thoughts. "We've just touched down onto firm ground."

"Excellent." Orally said. "Open the hatch in the back of the plane. My men need to stretch before we proceed with the operation."

The pilot nodded in agreement before doing as he was ordered. The General smirked as he exited the aircraft through one of the doors to the side. As he jumped the height from where the plane started onto the ground, he watched as the soldiers piled out from within the back room, stretching their limbs as they did. An hour may not have been much, but they had been stationary throughout the entire flight, so their limbs were stiff.

As soon as he figured he had granted them enough time to regain their normal movement, he called their attention, and immediately the group formed two lines in front of him, consisting of eight people front and back.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he cleared his throat before addressing his men. "You all understand why you are here today; invading a country of which peaceful ties are being produced. It is because the man who is responsible for taking the lives of five innocent human beings is in hiding from our government and it is our duty to bring him back to Esthar so that he can answer for his crimes. We are here to prevent a criminal from getting away with murder, and if we have to piss off a nation to do our jobs, then so be it.

"Everyone knows what to do in this operation, but be warned; we can no longer track the culprit by using the same Galbadian frequency. The Presidential Residence has probably already discovered our true intentions, so be on alert." He continued. "The prisoner is to be apprehended alive to answer for his crimes. Death is too swift a punishment for him, and, like his victims, he should be made to suffer for his actions. Are you with me men?"

In response, the soldiers straightened their backs, standing as straight and rigid as they possible could before uttering the words, "Sir, we're with you, sir!"

"Good…" Orally said before he pointed off towards the city. "Fall out! I want him apprehended before the hour is up."

* * *

**3:28:07**

* * *

Despite their obvious unwillingness to assist, the receptionist managed to gather the security forces for the building and evacuate the rooms of the hotel's second floor. It had taken all of ten minutes to accomplish; most of the residences were un-enthused with the idea of being removed from their rooms when they were catching up on some rest from the events of the night before, but had, nonetheless, cooperated all the same.

At this point in time, Squall couldn't have really cared less.

It had taken a good half an hour just to get the patrons to evacuate their rooms and the SeeD suspected that the receptionist had everything to do with the amount of time it was taking. Unfortunately, because she was being seemingly cooperative despite the circumstances, he had no proof for his claims and couldn't do much about it.

Finally, the last of the patrons emerged from the top of the stairs, and he immediately turned to face the Galbadian officers who had accompanied his team to the hotel as well as the guests. "No one is to leave the area during the search. If anyone does, they will immediately be arrested and held for suspicion. Things will go a lot faster if you cooperate with us."

The three officers closest to him nodded their consent; they understood what was to be expected of them. Nodding back, he was quick in selecting Zell and Talle before heading back up the stairs, and following them were a set of nine police officers. This left Ezack behind in order to monitor the guests along with the remainder of the police force. As he passed her by, the receptionist offered him a small smile on her previously taut features.

Was it just his imagination, or had it seemed a little smug?

Shaking off his thoughts as strictly paranoid, he directed Talle to examine the rooms located at the far right, while Zell did the same near the top of the stairs. Squall himself headed down to the far left, and began his search there, directing the three police officers with him to investigate the other rooms. He had no plans of allowing their suspect of slipping by.

It was a few minutes later when he heard one of the officers calling him into one of the rooms further back. Keeping a brisk pace, he entered the room. It was a slightly smaller than the others; probably only retaining one patron, with a small kitchenette positioned to the left of the door. A bed was placed near the window, with two nightstands standing on either side of the headboard. The walls were, like the hallway, a creamy white colour, and the carpet his feet strode across was a deep crimson colour.

The officer who had called him was standing on the opposite side of the bed, crouching down as if looking at something. Moving around the bed, Squall knelt down beside him, the officer handing him a strange looking object. It was round in the center with straight bars crisscrossing behind the object in the form of an 'x'. The object was painted the same kind of brown; however it appeared out of place inside of the room.

"I found this while I was looking around the room." The officer explained as Squall looked it over. "I've never seen anything like it before."

The SeeD tilted it to the left before suddenly noticing some kind of writing along the side. It was in a language he didn't understand, which was odd considering his training, but as soon as he tilted it further in order to get a better look, the officer's voice broke through his thoughts. "Hey, I get what it is. Some kinda fancy looking clock."

Squall returned the object to its original upright position and realized that the display at the very center had lit up – he had probably pressed something accidentally – but the numbers then began to flash. It looked like a normal analogue clock, but the numbers were blinking 5-:-0-0.

He stared at it for a moment before recognition hit him. He'd never seen a device that looked like this before, but at the same time, he understood what the numbers meant. When a clock is reset – either accidentally or on purpose – the object immediately returns to projecting the time of midnight. In some places, especially in the western cities and countries, the time is displayed by a twelve hour clock. But while normally reset clocks return to displaying 12:00 across this screen, this one was reading 5:00.

The SeeD rose to his feet slowly, trying not the bump around the object, and the officer followed suit. "Get everyone out of this building, immediately. Find out whose room this was as soon as you can." Squall ordered.

"Sir?" the officer asked as Squall activated his comlink. "This is Ground Team, does anyone read?"

The person on the other end responded roughly a second later, but it felt like it had been longer. "I read you Ground Team. What's the situation?"

Squall inwardly sighed in relief. The voice belonged to the person he needed to speak to. "A bomb has just been discovered inside of one of the rooms of the Flemington Hotel. I need you to walk me through disarming it."

"Copy that," Selphie said, even as the officer was leaving the scene. "What kind of bomb is it?"

"Nothing I've ever seen before." Squall responded. "There are a set of letters along the side, I think it might be Esthari."

"An Estharian bomb?" Selphie responded and Squall had the feeling he wasn't going to like what she said next. "Just my favourite kinda bomb too. What's it look like?"

"Like a clock, only slightly heavier." Squall answered, checking the display. Less than four minutes.

He heard Selphie curse on the other end and frowned deeply. "Selphie, can you disarm it?"

"Negative. Sorry Squall, I've never even seen that kind of bomb before. The Estharians sent Garden all the schematics of their explosive devices per the treaty, but none of them were ever in the shape of a clock."

Mentally cursing, Squall adjusted his grip on the object, tucking it underneath his arm. "I've already ordered that the building be evacuated. The officer who was with me will question the receptionist on the owner of this room. Whoever it is has to have had a tie in with the assassination attempt on the President's life."

"What are you going to do?" Selphie asked and Squall could tell she knew what he was thinking.

"I'll try to get the bomb as far away as I can. And don't bother trying to argue with me, because there isn't any time!" Squall headed towards the window – bomb securely tucked underneath his arm – and began to scale the side of the building. Taking a second to glance over his shoulder, he noticed that his order had been followed; the civilians were beginning to gather outside of the building. Squall could only hope that the remainder of the building was being evacuated as well.

* * *

He ran out of the building along with some of the patrons he'd managed to round up, but Zell stopped just outside the doors, even as the guests ran across the street to where it was safer.

The police officers they'd split up from had run down the hallway, telling them to evacuate the building before he made his way down the stairs. Zell and Talle had immediately headed up higher, despite the police's attempts to call them back, in order to locate the rest of the guests. He had been worried though; he'd seen the cops running towards them, but there hadn't been a sign of Squall anywhere.

Zell had gone to the third floor while Talle had bypassed him up towards the top – there were only four floors to the building – and had begun knocking on everyone's door in order to start the evacuation procedure. A moment later, the fire alarm went off and everyone immediately fell into the routine the fire drills had instilled in them.

Which was a good thing; from experiences in the past, he had expected them all to freak out.

Now, standing outside of the building, he was tempted to go back in to make sure everyone got out when he saw Talle running towards him, carrying a young woman while everyone else ran out of the hotel. Another patron approached him and Talle immediately handed him the woman before the pair ran to the opposite side of the street themselves.

"What's going on?" Talle asked.

"The hell would I know?" Zell answered. "Who pulled the alarm?"

"I did." Ezack said, making his way towards them. A handful of people were behind him, mostly dressed in work attire, which told Zell they had been in the bar when the alarm had been pulled. ""Where's the squad leader?"

Zell frowned. He had been hoping one of the others had seen him.

"There!" Talle said a moment before Zell was about to answer. The SeeD turned towards his comrade and saw him pointing back towards the hotel. When he turned to look, sure enough there was Squall, climbing the side of the building and moving quickly out of sight.

"The hell's he doing?" Ezack said.

As if on cue, one of the police officers approached the trio, and Zell took notice that the remainder of the forces were trying to keep the crowd behind them from panicking. "Move away from the building."

"The Squad Leader's up there!" Talle retorted and Zell wrung his arm out of the officer's grip – he had grabbed the SeeD while instructing them to move away.

The cop looked back towards the crowd and nodded to himself once before turning to address them. Zell had a feeling this guy knew what was wrong.

"While searching one of the rooms on the second floor, I reported to Operative Leonhart that I'd found something unusual. Upon examining it, he identified it as a bomb."

"A bomb?" Ezack exclaimed.

"Last I saw, he was speaking to someone about diffusing it. He'd already ordered me to evacuate the building." The officer explained. "But if that thing goes off now, we're going to be in danger, now move it!"

This time, Zell didn't resist, and he and the others moved to where the civilians were. Taking a quick look around, Zell noticed that the crowds were beginning to draw attention. The officers were quick in guarding the streets, preventing anyone from entering the zone, and he saw that one of the cops was even radioing for backup. The soldier who had been positioned against the doors was also assisting in keeping other civilians away from the building, but Zell could see that some of the nearby residences were filled with families and neighbours watching the scene from their windows.

_Great, we're gonna make the news…_ Zell thought to himself before the sound of an explosion caught him off guard. People around him screamed, even as he and his team mates hit the ground, hands covering their heads as glass shattered all around them – an aftermath of the shockwave caused by the explosion. When Zell looked back up, in the sky was a cloud of smoke billowing from where the bomb had gone off. It was above a building next to the hotel; higher in scale by about seven stories.

Zell pulled himself into a crouching position, as did Talle and Ezack, even as more of the police were making their way towards the scene. Bits of debris from the bomb had only just begun to fall back towards the ground, mostly surrounding the hotel, but they caused dents into the surrounding street and sidewalks, and even the police were moving away from the area.

"…What the hell just happened?" Ezack asked through all the confusion.

Zell frowned grimly, his gaze skyward, but before he could respond, he heard more screaming coming from his right. Turning away from the scene of the explosion, he saw why. The civilians were beginning to run in the opposite direction, people shutting the blinds or curtains of the windows of their houses even as the police began issuing orders over the noise. But Zell could see clearly the familiar silver and purple uniforms of the people who had just arrived on the scene.

Even as the police issued for the interlopers to drop their weapons, the Estharian Soldiers raised them, pointing them at the officers standing in their way. But as it looked like they would be forced to follow the Estharians orders, more Galbadian Soldiers rounded the corner, probably wondering what had happened before immediately drawing their own weapons and firing, the civilians long gone as the shots from their weapons flew towards the Estharians.

The Estharians then opened fire on the Galbadians, the officers quick to move away from the fire fight, even as they tried to retain peace.

Zell stood opened mouthed rooted to the spot. In front of his very eyes a fire fight had just begun, but shock overrode his judgement as he stood and watched. Estharians were in Galbadia. Of course, the last he'd heard, the Estharians were heading towards the country, but they'd arrived in the capital and had tracked them all down, seemingly ambushing the Galbadians. It probably had something to do with changing the frequency they were using, and as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he realized why.

Because the Estharians were searching for something from the Ground Team.

A shout of warning came from his right, and he was suddenly lying on the ground, the wind having been knocked out of him with Talle pulling himself back up. "You were about to get shot in the head, Dincht! Watch yourself!"

Zell nodded weakly, even as his gaze set itself back towards the clouds of smoke, which were only now beginning to disperse. Where the hell was Squall when you needed him?

**

* * *

**

3:48:02

* * *

Selphie shot up from her chair, Paul and his team doing the same. After having failed to divert the Estharians from their destination, Paul had repositioned himself into keeping an eye on the Ground Team. Selphie had managed to send the code to Squall in order to switch frequencies, but it had apparently been too late.

Currently she was watching from one of the traffic cameras positioned nearby a fight between the Galbadian Soldiers in the area and the Estharians. She had contacted them, hoping to help with the evacuation of the civilians, but instead she'd just managed to make matters worse.

Also, the connection she'd had with Squall up until less than a minute ago had become disconnected; probably an effect of the explosion.

She refused to believe he'd died getting rid of the bomb; Squall was much more resourceful than that. He'd proved that two months ago during his brief stay in Esthar, being the most recent example. Surviving the battle against Ultimecia only to get blown up by a bomb was definitely not something Selphie wanted to believe.

Looking towards the monitors she'd had set up along her terminal, she swivelled around her chair in the hopes of finding a better camera angle. She had to find Squall before the Estharians did; she'd just been informed by one of the soldiers the reason why the Estharians were in Deling City; why they'd used the frequency between the Residence and the Ground team in order to get what they were looking for. Selphie knew she had to act fast and re-establish the connection, but so far there was just too much distortion.

Frowning to herself, she typed in the code that would establish such a connection; crossing her fingers as she pressed a button, praying that it would work this time.

* * *

When the rain of debris finally stopped, Squall slowly pulled himself up, using both his arms and legs to push his weight away from the rooftop he was lying on. He looked up to see the residual smoke from the explosion fading and knew he had averted a disaster.

Even as he pulled himself into a kneeling position, he examined himself, checking for possible injuries. He ached all over – probably from tossing himself onto the ground moments before the explosion – and wasn't surprised to see he'd been cut up pretty badly because of the debris from the device. The jacket he had been issued was gone, having been wrapped around the bomb in an attempt to smother the detonation. From the looks of it, things had worked out the way he'd expected.

The jacket he had chosen to wear was cut along his arms and, from the pain lancing up his spine, the back. He was covered in the soot from the smoke making its way towards the ground, and his pants were in the same condition as the jacket. His arms and legs were bleeding, as was his back, but he still managed to rise to his feet, shaking the dust from his hair and taking a look around.

The result of the detonation had been minimal; the windows of the surrounding buildings having only been shattered. It hadn't been a very powerful bomb, but had it staying inside the hotel; the results would have been far more disastrous. Coughing from the smoke, he moved towards the edge of the roof top, looking down and seeing a sight that he hadn't quite expected.

On one end of the street were Estharian Soldiers, weapons raised and firing their ammunition at the Galbadian Soldiers at the other end, who were returning fire. He couldn't locate the SeeD teams anywhere, and the police were trying feebly to stop the fight. It didn't look as though they were having much success.

Frowning at the disarray that had taken place, he steeled himself to jump the side of the building when the headset he was wearing beeped, informing him that someone was trying to locate him. Pressing a button on the side of the headset, he spoke into the speaker of the device, still attempting to clear away the smoke he had probably inhaled. "This is Ground Team, over."

A cheer sounded from the other end, and Squall could tell that it was Selphie. "You damn near scared us all to death! No more Dare-Devil antics or you'll have Rinoa to worry about!"

"What is it?" Squall asked, deliberately ignoring the order as he moved away from the roof's edge in order to get a better signal.

"Just calling to warn you that there are Estharian soldiers around your area. They're—"

"Fighting with the Galbadians. I know, I can see them." Squall responded. "Have you found out what they're looking for?"

Before Selphie could say anything else, Squall felt something uppercut his chin and nearly flew back onto the ground. He rubbed it gingerly, searching the area for the attacker, but found that he was alone.

"What happened?" Selphie asked from her end.

"Don't know," Squall responded. "Something just attacked me, but I can't see what it is."

"I'll scan the area for any thermal activity." Selphie stated, and the clicking of the keyboard indicated she was already working on it. Squall waited, keeping on alert, and after a minute, Selphie spoke again, her voice panicked. "Squall, to your left!"

Squall ducked instinctively, before turning around and throwing his fist out, expecting to catch air. However, he felt something solid as his blow connected, but couldn't tell anything after that. He looked around again, in case his attacker wasn't alone.

Selphie managed to confirm the notion, because she spoke to him again. "Behind you!"

Squall rolled out of the way, even as Selphie was barking directions from her current position. He pulled himself back up, only to be forced to summersault away from another unseen enemy. Upon stopping, he jumped backwards, and managed to flip back to where he had originally been standing, landing in a crouch as his hand grabbed the hilt of the Lionheart. "What are they?"

"You mean who." Selphie said. "Their Estharian Soldiers, probably having separated from the rest of their squad. But their using their camouflage devices."

"Why are they attacking me?" Squall asked.

"I was about to tell you, but…"

Before Selphie could continue, something from his right hit him over the head, knocking him down onto the ground. The sound that followed afterwards was static, and Squall realized that the headset he had been wearing was broken. He pulled himself off the ground, only to be kicked roughly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, causing him to roll away and land roughly on his side. Cradling his stomach, Squall winced as he rose to his feet, wondering what it was they wanted with him as he surveyed his options. He couldn't use any info-red gear; it was too bright out and the result would blind him, worsening the situation.

Even as he considered this, he found his legs kicked out from underneath him, forcing him to land on his back once again. He winced as the scratches rubbed against the ground, even as someone from behind him pulled him back up into a standing position, his arms behind held from two different sides. He tried to break free, but the grip on his arms simply intensified, before he was forced into a kneeling position. He found himself facing the ground before something grabbed roughly onto his hair and yanked upward, forcing him to stare up at nothing.

But after a second, that nothing formed into one of the Estharian soldiers Selphie warned him about; and after a moment, the two holding him down appeared to him as well. Just as Squall was about to question the situation, the soldier towering before him snapped his weapon up and hit him across the face with the hilt, forcing the SeeD to blink away the stars that had entered his vision. His vision swam for a moment, but he was able to steady it, even as the first soldier began to speak.

"That should teach you," the soldier sneered. He levelled his weapon once again, however this time, Squall found himself face to face with the barrel end of the Estharians riffle. He froze, knowing that any sudden movement would warrant the soldier to fire at him, but at the same time he couldn't help the confusion from crossing his features. Why would the Estharians attack him and then aim a riffle at his face? He couldn't figure out the answers and what was worse was Selphie had been able to tell him when his headset had been broken.

One of the two soldiers on either side of him spoke for the first time since the initial skirmish. He was speaking in Current Day Esthari; a language Squall hadn't actually had the opportunity to learn during his years as a cadet, but even still, from his visit in Esthar two months prior he was able to pick out one word; it meant alive.

The Estharian responded in the same language before pulling out a silver rope. This confused Squall even further; were they planning on tying him up?

Just when he didn't expect to receive any answers, the Estharian towering before him spoke in the common language; his words accented from his years of living in the technologically advanced country, and chipped with something boarding on hatred. "Squall Leonhart. By order of the President, the Estharian Cabinet and the Estharian Government, you are hereby under arrest."

Squall stared at him for a moment, his mind still translating the words meaning in his head before he realized what had been said. "What?" he asked in disbelief and, when he tried to move forward, he was unceremoniously yanked back by the two soldiers pinning him down. "Why would the Estharian government be after my arrest?"

"Don't play dumb," the Estharian snarled, snapping the rope and removing any slack that had originally been present. "You understand the charges, and you sure as hell know what you did." He switched dialect again, speaking to one of his comrades, but Squall was almost positive he was giving the order to report in.

_So this was the reason why they were in Galbadian airspace._ Squall thought to himself. _Because they _knew _I was here. But that isn't possible; all SeeD missions are under classification. Could they have hacked into Garden records? Or did someone give them my location, and if so, then why?_

The more answers Squall received, the more questions seemed to appear. For instance, what would give the Estharians the idea that he had done anything? And what exactly did they think he had done in the first place? He couldn't have been in Esthar to do anything; he hadn't set foot in the country for two months already. It just didn't make any sense.

"Look," Squall said, keeping his voice as calm as he possibly could. "I don't know what it is you _think_ I did, but I assure you I couldn't have done it."

What he received for his efforts was another slap in the face by the blunt of the Estharian's riffle.

For a brief second he considered allowing himself to be captured by the Estharians, if only to figure out their motives for his capture, or even what he'd supposedly done. He brushed the thought away though; knowing he was already involved in a mission and that if the information he currently possessed didn't reach the President, then the assassination attempts would probably just continue, despite the progress they'd had. He couldn't allow the meddling of the Estharian Government, for whatever reason, to get in the way.

Squall quickly surveyed his options; his current objective being to get away from the Estharians as fast as he could. He knew that one of them was currently speaking with someone over their own communication frequency, and figured that his attention would be diverted, if only temporarily. Whatever the Estharians wanted with him was going to have to wait; he needed to complete his objective.

One of the Estharians must have noticed he had gone silent, because he felt the soldier tighten his grip on the SeeD almost painfully and Squall winced as the soldier's thumb brushed across one of his scratches. "Don't even think about it." He snarled in common. "As long as we've got you like this, there's no way you can use your weapon."

Figuring that this was his only option, Squall grit his teeth, knowing that this was going to hurt. "Who said anything about a weapon?"

The Estharian went to respond, but by then Squall had mustered enough of his strength to rise up slightly and crash the top of his head with the soldier's chin, knocking him backwards. The other soldier flew back as well, having been caught off guard and Squall swept his leg underneath them, knocking them off their feet and forcing them to crash onto the ground.

The remaining soldier stepped back in shock but quickly recovered, raising his riffle and firing off a couple of rounds. With the increased speed that his junctions awarded him, Squall grabbed the side of the barrel and pushed upward, forcing the bullets to fly skyward. Leaning backward slightly, Squall smashed his forehead into the soldier's helmet, knocking the man back against the roof where he then lay still.

Rubbing his head with his left hand, Squall sensed danger from above and back flipped three times, landing in a crouch a few meters away from where the fired bullets penetrated the rooftop, only causing dentations along the surface. Rising to his feet, he was well aware of the knowledge that he was standing on the ledge he had been previously and vaulted off it, grabbing a hold of a nearby flag pole to stop his descent, and swinging himself upwards, landing on top of the metal pole and taking in what was happening beneath him. The soldiers, both Galbadian and Estharian, were still immersed in their own fight; however a majority of them had moved to melee combat rather than ranged shooting.

Squall knew that one of them had probably reported his capture, and wouldn't be surprised if more soldiers immediately attempted to relocate him. Not only that, but he also understood the position he'd find himself in once the three soldiers woke up. Frowning to himself, he decided that finding his comrades would be the best course of action, for the moment at least, and began climbing down the side of the building in an attempt to locate them.

* * *

_**4:00:00**_


	3. Hour 3

**02/03/2007: **_Okay, I know I said that the previous chapter would have the last author's note, but I want to explain something before the start of this chapter. This story is a revamped version of the already completed version I have posted in my profile (feel free to read it, but personally I'd say it's garbage), so the reason for the first three chapters being so speedily posted is because I already had bits and pieces written out; I just had to expand on them or improve them a bit. Don't expect the speedy updates to last forever though; they probably won't._

_I'd also like to say that I wasn't too happy with the ending of this chapter, but it was simply the best I could do without completely rehauling it and starting over. What I had originally was pretty good, if only a recap of what had happened between the beginning of the story and now. I wanted to shorten it, but I found that the additional source of information was handy and, besides, it helps bring everything full circle. The next chapter should be better (if only slightly), with more original content (this one chapter was the first to have something different happen from the garbage that sired it), and a lot more plot twists. So enjoy this chapter and strap yourselves in for another tension filled hour._

Chapter Edited: **07/19/2007**

* * *

**The following takes place between 4am and 5am.  
Events occur in real time.**

* * *

The light on the dashboard of the Ragnarok began to blink once more as it alerted its two passengers of another transmission. Nida immediately flipped the dial that would patch him into contact with the second party, and knew who it was even before doing so. "This is Ragnarok, over."

"I'm afraid I don't have good news to deliver." The headmaster's voice clearly stated from his end. "From the readouts that we've received from the President of Galbadia, Estharian soldiers have already arrived within the city limits and are in the middle of combating against the Galbadians in the down town area."

"How do they know the Ground Team is in Deling's Down-Town proper?" Quistis asked.

"Because the Estharians tapped into the communications frequency being used to contact the team." Cid answered. "The Galbadians have already change frequencies, but I don't think it'll make a difference."

Nida and Quistis both exchanged worried glances before turning their attention back towards the transmission. "But we're barely an hour away from the city!" Nida remarked. "There's no way that we'll get there in time! And I'm piloting the Ragnarok as fast as I can!"

"I just hope that Squall is able to keep away from them until we get there." Quistis said. "He should be able to. He's not incapable of stealth."

"But there's no guarantee that our people over there even know that they're there already. And even if they _do_, they probably don't even know that it's Squall they're after." Nida argued.

"Nida's correct." Cid said from where he was. "Judging from what I've learned from President Caraway, the Ground team has already sighted the Estharian soldiers, but further communications between the Residence and the team has been terminated. They're looking into it as we speak."

Quistis frowned to herself as she turned her attention towards the window, watching the ocean beneath them pass them by. _Squall…please get out of there before the Estharians can capture you._

* * *

As soon as they were able to assist the police in evacuating the civilians from the area, Zell, Talle and Ezack had, along with trying to calm everyone down, tried to think of a way to stop the fighting. Zell had filled them in on his suspicions and the others had agreed that it was the only plausible explanation. The only problem was that since such a small team had been sent to search the hotel, Squall was the only one with a headset, and thus the only one who could contact the Galbadian Residence, and he was nowhere to be found, so he couldn't even verify those suspicions.

Zell couldn't understand why all of this was even happening. The treaty had been created in order to prevent situations like this, and yet here they were witnessing another fight breaking out between the former enemies. With all that was happening, Zell wouldn't have been surprised to find that the United Confederation plans were in serious jeopardy.

Just as he was convinced he and the others were going to have to become involved, he caught some movement from his left and was relieved to find Squall moving towards them. The issued jacket he'd received from the residence was gone, and he was cut up pretty bad, but other than that he seemed to have gotten out of the explosion alright.

"Yo!" Zell shouted, catching Ezack's and Talle's attention, even as Squall reached them. "The hell did the Headmaster say about getting yourself killed?"

Squall seemed to ignore the comment; which suited Zell just fine. He was just happy the Squad Leader was alive. "The Estharians…" Zell started, but was cut off.

"I know about them. Three of them ambushed me up on the rooftops."

"Why?" Talle asked.

"What are we supposed to do?" Ezack asked. "Our mission is to assist the Galbadians, but if we get involved, the Estharians will look at it like SeeD's picking sides."

"And if we just stay where we are," Zell continued. "We'll be bailing on our contract and it'll still make us look bad." Zell shook his head to clear it. It was like they were in some kind of nightmare; living out the worst possibility the world could have ever faced. It might even lead to another war; the one thing no one was prepared for.

"We'll just have to re-evaluate our options." Squall stated. "We have to find a way to contact the President; alert him of the situation if he doesn't already know."

"But what about—?" Talle started, but Squall cut him off.

"The communications headset I was issued was broken when I was attacked." Squall said. "I already tried it, but I can't contact anyone in the Residence."

Zell frowned. He had been counting on that piece of equipment to be able to speak to the President. Now that option had flown the coop and they needed a new plan. "Then we'd better start looking." Zell said. "But it'd help if we knew what it was they were after."

"I already have that answer." Squall said, to which Zell whirled around.

"Yeah? What is it?"

Zell immediately regretted his question when the expression on Squall's face shifted to grim.

"Me."

"You?" Ezack interjected when Zell's vocal cords wouldn't work. "But you couldn't have done anything; you've been here this whole time!"

"I know that, but to them, I'm a criminal. I tried to explain myself, but they didn't listen. I left them unconscious back at the rooftop, but there's no telling how long before they wake up. What about the suspect? Does anyone know who was renting that room?"

"The police are questioning the receptionist now." Talle answered. "More of the police are making sure none of the civilians leave the area, and the others went to try and stop the fire-fight."

"The room, from what the cops told us, was 2B." Ezack explained. "So it shouldn't be too long until we find them."

"Expect the person to be a foreigner." Squall instructed. "Or at the very least a Galbadian with a very limited grasp of Esthari. The bomb we found was of Estharian make."

"What?" Zell shouted. "First the Estharians invade Galbadia and start a shoot off, and _now_ they're planting bombs in hotels?"

"How do you know it was Estharian?" Talle asked.

"There were words written along the side. It was Esthari. I don't know what they said, and anyway the bomb wasn't registered in the list of schematics that were handed over as per the treaty. I received confirmation when Selphie couldn't diffuse it."

"Why would Esthar hide bomb schematics from the Galbadians?" Zell asked.

"We'll have to save it for later. Right now, we need to find the suspect before—"

Before Squall could finish his sentence, gun fire sounded from nearby, and the civilians ducked down low to the ground, even as the SeeDs turned in the direction the shots were coming from. Zell took notice of a man who looked like he wasn't from these parts, dressed in a yellow shirt and a pair of white pants – like any tourist. However, in his right hand was a gun – P14-45 LDA – and held against him with his left arm was a police officer – probably the man who was about to question him.

"Everyone put your weapons down!" the man shouted in common, though an Estharian accent could be detected. "That includes you SeeDs over there."

When no one made a move to comply with his orders, the man slammed the blunt of his gun against the officer's head, stunning him momentarily before aiming it at his hostage's temple. "Do it, or this man dies!"

The police immediately complied with the man's orders, and Squall nodded in Zell's direction before unsheathing the Lionheart and placing it on the ground. Talle and Ezack relinquished their own weapons – a boomerang and axe respectively. Zell bent down; removing the .9mm he had with him, the others doing the same.

The man nodded, his dark hair flying into his face before he could blow it away from his eyes. "Good. You SeeD punks are a lot smarter than you look."

"We've done what you've asked." Squall said, moving slowly towards the Estharian man. "Let the officer go."

The man seemed to contemplate this, before he shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Now wait just a minute—" Talle started, but was cut off by the Estharian.

"I don't recall telling you I'd let him go if you did as I said." The man stated. "Simply that he would not die. I'll need him for leverage if I am to escape, of course."

"You take him away with you and the entire Galbadian forces will come after you." Squall stated, and Zell understood from the way he kept glancing towards the officers that he had a plan. "And anyways, who's to say they wouldn't try to stop you? You don't have the intimidation factor you'd need to get away."

The Estharian man seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding slight. "It did take you a moment to respond to my order. Alright. I'll change hostages. But who to pick…"

It was then that Zell picked up on what Squall was getting at and stepped forward, knowing what he'd have to do. "Take me."

Everyone turned to regard him and he could tell that, though Squall was maintaining a blank expression, he had done exactly what the Squad Leader wanted him to. "I'm a lot stronger than that guy; the cops'd think twice before comin' after you."

The man stared at Zell, and seemed to consider the offer for a second. The brawler held his breath, knowing that if the man conceded, he'd have the best chance at taking him down without anyone getting hurt. They just needed to do this the right way.

After a moment of thought, the man looked as though he had made his decision. "Don't think so."

"Why not? You have to admit it's the best idea!"

"While I agree that choosing a SeeD as my hostage is a good idea, from what I've seen of you already, you're too much of a loud mouth to ensure my escape." The man looked around for a minute before gesturing near Zell. "You, with the dark hair. You seem to be the one in charge. Get over here, now, or I kill this man."

Zell frowned and mentally cursed before turning to look at Squall. He was already being pursued by the Estharians, and he seriously needed to get the hell outta there. If he was being held hostage, that'd only make things worse than they already were. What if the Estharians caught up with him at that very moment?

He'd had a feeling this was going to happen, and he knew he had to think quickly. This was their only shot at capturing the guy. "What do you mean he looks like he's in charge? Just because he does all the talking? What makes you think I didn't set it up like that in the first place to fool you?" Zell crossed his arms across his chest. "He's just the spokesperson."

Zell could feel all eyes on him, and knew that the others were shocked. Still, he couldn't let this man believe he was faking; if he figured it out then there was no point.

"Yeah, right." The man said. "I believe I've already made my choice." He gestured towards Squall once again. "You, come here now, or the cop dies."

Zell was about to respond, but Squall cut him off. "Zell, it's alright." He turned his attention back towards the hostage taker, before speaking once again. "Alright. But I'll move over to you only after you've released the hostage."

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" the man asked. "This is your last warning."

"He has nothing—" Squall started but was interrupted.

"You have to the count of five to start moving. If you don't comply by the time I finish, then this man is dead and it's on your conscience. One."

Zell ran through the options available to them mentally, clenching and unclenching his fists as he did. Squall knew how to take care of himself, but there was no guarantee that he'd get himself out of this mess. Especially if the Estharians were to make an appearance. He had to think of a way to stop this guy. If they gave him another hostage, he would just leave.

"Two." The man said, tightening the grip he had on the gun and on the cop he held prisoner. From what Zell could see, Squall just stared at the man, still wearing the same blank expression he always did. He didn't even look all that phased by the threat.

Looking down, he noticed that he had made himself a lot closer to the weapons pile unconsciously. If he were quick about it, he could either grab one of the weapons, or even cast magic on the bastard that would catch him off guard.

"Three."

_Maybe this was what Squall had in mind all along,_ Zell thought to himself. _If he thought he could hit this guy with magic before he could grab a hold of me, instead of waiting until he grabbed me. If I could do that, it would knock him down long enough for the police to arrest him._

"Four." The man's index finger hovered over the trigger and the cop closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

No one made a move for a second and the finger touched the trigger, just as the hostage taker was about to reach the final number. "Fi—"

"Alright." Squall said, taking a step forward. "I'm coming." He started walking a second after that, and Zell noted that both Talle and Ezack exchanged glances in confusion. Zell tried to mirror that expression as best as he could, but it was difficult having seen what Squall was thinking. It hadn't been that difficult though; they were assigned to the same squad during the Sorceress' War.

The squad leader kept moving, taking deliberate steps, even as officers moved away and the civilians stayed on the ground and it was then that Zell recognized the glint of metal tucked behind Squall's back. It took a moment for him to realize it, but he suddenly figured that Squall had prepared himself in case he was forced to shoot the suspect. Zell frowned, but tried to make it as inconspicuous as he could; the terrorist was sure to know that he was armed.

After a few moments, he reached the Estharian – the terrorist, though it was only when Squall was within reaching distance that the man released his hold on the cop, knocking him towards the ground. The man was just barely taller than Squall's 5'8", but that didn't seem to matter to him.

The man then raised the gun he held and Squall paused in his movement. "Turn around."

Squall did as instructed, and the man immediately reached forward, grabbing the gun that the SeeD had stashed away. "I knew it was too easy in him volunteering," the man sneered, gesturing towards Zell before turning towards the fallen cop. "Search him. Make sure he doesn't have any more surprises."

"The rest of my weapons are back with the other SeeDs," Squall stated, and the man responded by pointing the gun he held directly at the back the SeeD's head.

"I'll be the judge of that." He looked towards the other cop before tilting his head upward. "Search him."

The cop did as he was told, instructing Squall to raise his arms out on either side of him before patting him down, searching his boot legs, the inside of his jacket, and pretty much every other place anyone would think to hide a weapon. The cop stopped, having searched every inch of the SeeD, but having found nothing. The man nodded his acceptance of that fact, before wrapping his left arm around Squall's neck. "Now we're going to get moving. Anyone follows us and Garden'll be down a soldier. Am I understood?"

Squall suddenly nodded; an action that would be, by normal standards, interpreted as an order to do as the man said, but Zell knew that it was a signal. In that instant, Squall inclined his head to the left, distracting the Estharian as well as giving the brawler the opening he needed. Zell reached forward, grabbing onto one of the .9mm's that were discarded and took aim, firing as soon as he had a shot.

Unfortunately, the distraction hadn't lasted long enough; the man had moved over to the right instinctively – probably trying to dodge the bullet – but he cried out in pain, releasing his grip on Squall as he fell to the ground. As quickly as the police were in retrieving their own weapons, the man was faster, quickly climbing onto his feet before making a run for it.

Zell, Ezack and Talle rushed forward, even as the officers began to give chase, checking to see if Squall was alright. Zell noticed that while the other SeeD was pulling himself to a sitting position, his left hand was clutching his right shoulder and dread filled him. He must have accidentally hit Squall when he shot the terrorists.

However, before he could say anything, Squall simply shook his head. "It grazed me; nothing serious. Go after him. We can't afford to have him get away."

Zell nodded numbly before taking off, seeing that the man hadn't actually gone very far.

* * *

**4:10:03**

* * *

Squall watched as Zell took off after the Estharian, Talle and Ezack doing the same once they'd collected their discarded weapons. Just as he was about to get up and follow, however, he heard footsteps coming from behind and instinctively turned around, only to discover that they belonged to two Galbadian soldiers – both clad in the blue uniform. One of them rushed over, helping the SeeD into a standing position, while the other one saluted him.

"Are you okay, sir?" the soldier helping him asked.

"I'm fine. Operative's Dincht, Corinth and Williams are in pursuit of a man suspected to be a part of the assassination attempts on the President. They're going to need backup."

"You hear all that?" the second soldier asked and Squall could even hear the response one the other end.

"Affirmative. A team is already on the way to intercept."

"I have to go after them." Squall said, but the second soldier shook his head.

"Sir, you have orders specifically from the Galbadian President." The soldier explained. Squall's curiosity must have shown because the soldier began to elaborate. "President Caraway received a call from the Headmaster of Balamb Garden roughly an hour ago. The Ragnarok is en-route to the city as we speak. Your orders are to rendezvous with the Garden personnel aboard the Ragnarok and return to Garden for further instructions."

As soon as he knew he was steady enough to stand on his own, Squall wrenched his arm free from the first soldier. "I can't just abandon my mission."

"With all due respect sir, the mission can take care of itself. The President has given these orders a level one priority."

Squall frowned thoughtfully; he couldn't just abandon the mission, but at the same time an order was an order. He would have to evacuate for now, but that didn't mean he was completely stripped from the mission. "I want to know as soon as we find out this man's name. If he has any connection to the terrorists, there may be a way to locate the rest of the cell."

"We'll have to speak to the President about those terms."

Squall sighed. It was the best he could hope for, given the circumstances. "Where is the Ragnarok landing?"

"From the direction they're coming in from, most likely east of here." The soldier answered. "You are to rendezvous with the Ragnarok outside the city limits."

"Here," the second soldier said, tossing something at the SeeD. Catching it, Squall recognized it immediately; it was another headset; a means of which he could contact the others at the Presidential Residence. "You might need that, in case something happens."

Nodding, Squall immediately turned and headed east. He didn't like the idea of falling back, but under the circumstances, he really didn't have much of a choice.

* * *

The doors to the Estharian Presidential Office burst open, startling the occupants within. All eyes turned towards the brunette who marched into the room, hands balled into fists on either side of her as she stopped just in front of the desk. Her hair was short, barely reaching her chin and her light brown eyes were narrowed in anger. She was dressed in one of the Estharian robes, with a blue stripe running down the center.

"Uncle Laguna!" Shouted Ellone Loire as her arms folded across her chest. "What exactly is going on here?"

Laguna blanched at the young girl as his two confidants, Kiros Seagill and Ward Zabac, merely exchanged glances among one another. Both Kiros and Laguna, and later on Ward, learned the hard way that whenever Ellone was upset or angry about something, that someone was going to hear about it in the end, or the guilty party was going to get what was coming to them.

After nodding to each other, Kiros and Ward both placed their hands over Laguna's shoulders before backing away from the both of them, Laguna whirling around as soon as he felt the contact and glaring balefully at his two best friends. "Gee thanks you guys!" Laguna muttered to them. "What ever happened to 'friends stick together through thick and thin'?"

"This is a bit too thick for me." Kiros said. Ward made a face before Kiros looked over and returned his attention to Laguna. "And Ward says you're on your own this time."

Sighing, Laguna turned his attention back towards his livid niece and winced as she continued to glare at the three of them. "What exactly is it that you're talking about?" he asked, beginning to feel the beginnings of a leg cramp.

"I'm talking about this business with the murders that happened earlier tonight." Ellone answered. "I woke up to get a drink of water, and what happens? I overhear two of the guards stationed outside of my room talking about a murder that happened, and that they think Squall is responsible! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my entire life!"

Laguna sighed. He had actually been hoping that he could have explained it to her in the morning when the entire mess had been sorted out, but it appeared as though luck was not on his side this time. What was worse was she found out that her adopted brother was involved and being accused of the crime.

Leaning back in his chair, Laguna took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Kiros, could you close the door? I don't want anyone else to overhear what I have to say."

Kiros nodded once before heading towards the double doors that lead out into the hall before closing and locking them. As soon as that was done with, Laguna removed his reading glasses before leaning forward in his chair once more. "Okay, Ellone, you seem to know that someone was murdered. Someone entered the building around two in the morning and killed five people within about fifteen minutes before the soldiers were able to find him. He escaped and disappeared right afterwards."

Taking another deep breath to maintain his composure, he continued with the explanation. "The soldiers are in the middle of examining the murder weapon, a knife, that had been left behind when the killer escaped, but the guard who was stationed at the front gate identified Squall as the only person who entered the building before the murders took place. Two others claim to have seen him enter the elevator heading up moments before we found one of the victims."

"But you can't believe that he did it, right?" Ellone asked, her voice cracking under the duress that her tone had taken on. "You _know_ that he wouldn't do such a thing."

Laguna nodded in agreement. "Of course I know he wouldn't do anything like that, especially in cold blood. But the government doesn't seem to think so and the General, without my permission, took a group of soldiers with him to bring him here for questioning. Last I heard, they were heading to Balamb Garden, but he's not there right now, so they shouldn't find him."

"How do you know that?" Ellone asked.

"Because I contacted Garden to try and warn him, but they told me that he's on a mission somewhere in Galbadia. They couldn't possibly find him before Cid warns him what's going on."

Just as he finished speaking, the panel next to the door beeped in response to someone entering the correct passcode and keycard required and the door was once again pushed open. This time, the figure entering the room was one of a short stature, barely reaching five and a half feet. He was dressed in the Estharian robes as well, only they differed from the civilian style by being purple in colour with a black stripe running down the center. He also wore the hood up over his head, nearly shielding his face from view. In one of his arms he held a clipboard and appeared to be gripping it rather tightly as he stormed into the room. As Kiros tried to bar him access, he was pushed aside and the short man approached Laguna's desk as Ellone moved over towards Laguna's side, still weary of the Estharians in general.

Laguna understood her feelings about them. He knew that she held no grudge towards the populace of the technologically advanced city, but the fact was that Estharians murdered her parents in an attempt to kidnap her, and she would never forget that it had been the council (under Adel's command of course) who had ordered the constant raids in Winhill. He didn't blame her, and grasped her hand in his reassuringly as he prepared to hear what the man had to say to him.

"Sir." The man in purple spoke curtly, and Laguna had a sudden sinking feeling that something was very wrong. "I just came in here to reveal to you the results of evidence team's inspection of the weapon. Instead, I overhear that you willingly gave warning to the people who are harbouring the suspect that the Estharians know that he killed those people. I honestly don't know what to think."

Laguna rose from his seat, surprising Ellone in the progress, but maintained his grip of her hand, for reassurance purposes. "First of all, he's my son. I think I would have the right to at least let him know what is going on. Secondly, how do you know that he even did it? How do you know that the guard wasn't mistaken when he identified him?"

"He appeared very convinced of who the man entering the presidential residence was." The man argued back.

"People aren't perfect." Laguna said. "They make mistakes."

"As I can see that you have already, with all due respect, sir." The man argued back, and just before Laguna could protest the comment, the man placed the clipboard down on top of his desk. "Those are the results of the examination. I'd say that there was no mistake, as the team themselves checked over the murder weapon three times, and came up with the exact same conclusions."

Laguna picked up the clipboard and looked through the report, flipping the page over when he was finished reading that portion. When he was done, his eyes widened, and he returned all the pages in order, re-reading the documentation over again.

"I assure you, Mr. President, there hasn't been a mistake." The man said. "That is the result of the examination. The weapon is of SeeD origin, and, if I recall, only SeeD personnel are authorized to use such a weapon. Also, the suspect's fingerprints were all over it."

"How do you know it was really him though?" Kiros spoke up. "How do you know that someone didn't just use it so that we'd pit the blame on him?"

"With the witness's testimony as well as the weapon, I'd say that it's very unlikely that such a thing happened." The man explained. "I highly doubt that anyone who has not been fully trained as a SeeD can fake the movements of one. Security detail said it themselves; the man they were pursuing knew exactly what it was he was doing, as well as how to go about it without being spotted or detected. And as the president so kindly stated, 'People aren't perfect; they make mistakes'. It just so happens that tonight was his time to mess up, and thus he was caught sooner than he probably expected. Not surprising, in my opinion."

Turning around, he headed back towards the door before turning to stare at the President of Esthar once more. "And, if I may be so bold, sir, I believe that you need to set your priorities straight. Although family is very important to everyone, if a member of that family, regardless of who they may be, does something wrong, then they must suffer the consequences of their actions."

With that said, the man in purple exited through the doors, leaving the four alone.

* * *

Even though he'd gotten a late start, Zell hadn't let that stop him from pursuing the terrorist, and soon enough he went from behind the police to in front of them, his junctionings granting him the extra boost of speed he needed in order to keep from losing their suspect. A chance glance behind proved that Talle and Ezack were right behind him; just enough for back up.

The suspect turned a corner – Zell could make him out by the yellow shirt he wore – and the SeeD followed suit, but just as he was making the turn, he was suddenly grabbed from behind, his arms pressed against his sides by a man dressed completely in black. The man was taller than Zell was by an impressive six inches, and as the brawler began to struggle, the man pushed Zell up against a wall, momentarily stunning him.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ezack and Talle rounding the corner, unleashing their weapons when they two were jumped from behind. Zell could barely make out a strip of yellow passing around another building adjacent to him and, with a burst of strength, was able to push his arms against his captor's, pushing the man off him and slugging him across the face before giving chase once again. Whether Ezack or Talle were behind him, he didn't stop to find out.

The man was in his sights once again, clutching at his arm even as Zell could make out the blood from his wound. Turning another corner, the brawler had to wonder if the man was trying to get him lost in order to lose him.

Then, he was jumped again; another man in black falling at him from a nearby ledge. The man pinned the tattooed SeeD onto the ground, the former's arm wrapped around Zell's throat with his arm pinned behind his back. Zell grit his teeth, trying to push the man off of him, but for some reason he was unable to, his face being pushed against the cement of the ground beneath him once again. As he looked up, he saw the man he was chasing turn yet another corner and disappear from sight.

* * *

Ibrihim stood behind Selphie as she typed code after code into the keyboard set in front of her. He had had her send two soldiers to contact Squall personally after his headset had been destroyed. One of them had a headset they were to give to the SeeD, and instructions on where to meet the Ragnarok. Ibrihim understood that the Estharians were after him, and even knew why, thanks to Headmaster Kramer and they would brief Squall as soon as they knew he was aboard the Ragnarok, safe and sound. They just had to wait.

A beeping noise from Selphie's headset broke his line of thought and Selphie answered it almost immediately. "Galbadian Presidential Residence…"

She paused for a moment and, from her reflection in the monitor directly in front of her, he saw her grinning afterwards. "Looks like you met the soldiers we sent you."

"Is that Squall?" Ibrihim asked, to which Selphie nodded. "Put him on speaker."

Nodding once again, Selphie quickly spoke into the headset before pressing a couple of switches and removing the device, just as Squall's voice sounded throughout the workstation. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear Squally!" Selphie shouted enthusiastically.

"…How many times…" Squall started, but Ibrihim interrupted him.

"Squall, this is President Caraway speaking. What is your current position?"

"I'm close to the outskirts of Deling City," came the response. "ETA is roughly five minutes."

"Good. We'll monitor you until you make contact with the Ragnarok."

"Sir, there's a couple of things you need to know." Squall said from his end. "The bomb that was set off in the hotel earlier was planted by one of the men who are trying to kill you. We managed to prevent any civilian casualties, and the bomb detonated well above ground. No one was injured."

"That's good news." Ibrihim said while Selphie shook her head. He couldn't well blame her; well aware of the SeeD's addiction to his job.

"The police managed to locate who was staying in that room, but he managed to delay us by using one of the officers as a hostage. Fortunately we were able to prevent anyone from getting hurt during the altercation and currently, Operatives Dincht, Corinth and Williams are in pursuit. I'm unaware of their current status.

"Also, I presume that Operative Tilmitt informed you that certain features on the bomb indicated that it was of Estharian make."

"Yes she did, but we were unable to find any schematics matching the description you gave Tilmitt."

"I know. Something tells me that the government wasn't made aware of the details as well. I doubt the Estharian President would try anything that would jeopardize the United Confederation. It might be an independent action from a terrorist group who see you as a threat."

"It may very well be. I'll contact the Estharian President and find out about the missing schematics. Also, there is a matter of importance we need to discuss; it's about the reason the Estharians are here."

"Sir, I'm well aware that they've come looking for me. Three of them attacked me right after I took care of the bomb. I managed to knock them out, but there's no telling how long they stayed that way."

"Probably not long enough, with the way things are going, but hopefully they won't find you until it's too late." Ibrihim said, recalling the report Selphie had given him a less than half an hour ago. "Did they tell you what the charge was?"

"Negative. They were more concerned with reporting in with their superior."

"And beating the crap out of you in the process," Selphie added without missing a beat.

Squall didn't respond; Ibrihim wondering if his silence was a non-committal response to Selphie's comment, or if something else was happening. "Squall? What is it?"

"Sir, I just reached the outskirts of Deling, but there is an Estharian aircraft being guarded by several Estharian units. I don't think I'll be able to get passed them."

"It's alright, we'll think of something. I'll contact Garden and explain the situation to the Headmaster."

* * *

Squall backed into the alleyway he had taken to get to the outskirts, keeping an eye on the Estharians patrolling their aircraft. While alerting the Headmaster was all well and good, at the same time it'd be pointless; what with the Estharians keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. There'd be no guarantee he'd make it to the Ragnarok without being attacked. There was also the safety of the occupants of the airship to think about; the Headmaster probably didn't send enough in order to take on an entire squad of Estharian soldiers.

Even as he had spoken to President Caraway, he'd had doubts about his escape even making a difference. Right now, the Estharians saw the Galbadians as a threat, since the former had invaded despite the amount of warnings they received upon doing so. There was also Garden's position to think about; if he were to escape back to Balamb, a world-wide conflict might ensue. The work that had been accomplished for the United Confederation would have been for nothing; the Estharian's failure to apprehend him at this point in time would be cause for a war to break out, especially if the President was backing the operation as the soldiers had alluded to earlier. Seeing as how Galbadia would still want retribution for the invasion, that would mean the worlds three leading powers would be turned against each other; Galbadia and Garden against Esthar. They didn't have the resources for another war and, if one were to break out, there was no telling what the end result would be.

He didn't have very much time to make a decision, and he would have to make one quickly if he was going to do anything at all.

"Squall? Are you there?" the President's voice came through the headset. "Did you hear me?"

Sighing, Squall understood exactly what it was he would have to do. No one was going to be particularly happy about it, but he would just have to deal with it later. "Yes I did. And there's no need to alert Garden of the need to land elsewhere. The Ragnarok should be arriving shortly and they'll announce their landing. When they do, I need you to give them new instructions."

"Squall?" President Caraway's voice sounded wary, but Squall pressed on despite it.

"Have the Ragnarok team assemble and meet both operatives Tilmitt and Dincht. They'll be returning to Garden in order to come up with an alternative game plan. Every other SeeD in Galbadia is to stay in the capital, under the orders of the Galbadian Government.

"Next, alert Garden and contact the Headmaster. If he hasn't already, I need him to alert Rinoa of the situation. She needs to hear what is happening before everything is suddenly blown out of proportion. She'll appreciate hearing it from the Headmaster than through gossip in the Garden."

"But what about you?" Selphie asked when the President fell silent.

Squall sighed, knowing what had to be done. He didn't have to like it though. "Don't worry about me. No matter what happens, understand that I know exactly what it is I'm doing. All I can ask of you is that you don't try to talk me out of this. I've made up my mind already and that's all there is to it."

"Squall—"

"With all due respect, Mr. President, I believe it is my decision to be made. I understand what everyone is trying to do, but this is the only option open to me."

If anyone on the line was about to argue with him, Squall didn't hear anything, simply removing the headset and rising from his crouching position. Taking a steadying deep breath to calm his nerves, he immediately proceeded towards the aircraft the Estharians were guarding. As soon as he was spotted, he paused in his approach and raised both arms above his head in silent surrender, his gaze focused on the ground in front of him, even as the Estharians approached him, cuffed his hands behind his back and brought him towards the ship.

* * *

**4:27:56**

* * *

She was starting to believe that they'd arrived too late when she saw Deling City coming into view from her vantage point. She leaned forward in her seat, as if the action would make the Ragnarok move faster, but she didn't care about the stupidity of the thought. What mattered was that she could still see the Estharian aircraft, which meant that they weren't too late; they'd made it.

But as they were getting closer to the city, Quistis noted that something seemed wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it seemed as though there was something she didn't know that had happened. It gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and she couldn't help but worry.

Just as she was about to key into the Presidential Residences frequency and find out what was wrong, she took notice that the Estharian aircraft was beginning to take off. She watched as the engines came online while the ship levitated in the air for the briefest of moments before taking off like a rocket; heading east and away from the Galbadian continent.

Blinking in momentary shock, Quistis couldn't help but wonder just what had happened. One minute, the Estharians are waiting near the city, waiting to apprehend their so-called suspect, and the next thing they're taking off, without any hint as to why.

The feeling in her stomach intensified, even as she heard Nida remark as to how strange their sudden departure was. Quickly gathering herself, she imputed the codes that would grant her a direct linkup with the Galbadian Presidential Residence. After waiting through a couple of beeps, the former Instructor was tempted to just hang up and begin again when someone on the opposite end finally responded. "I need to speak with the President immediately."

Zell had thought for sure the man pinning him down in an alley was going to knock him out and be done with it, but something suddenly beeped, and the man removed his grip slightly in order to pull out a small square black device with a display. He pulled the display to his face and, after reading whatever message he'd received, he simply pulled himself up onto his feet, releasing Zell completely before running off.

Frowning as he rubbed his wrists, Zell pulled out a portable communicator – something that would connect him with the rest of his team – and activated the signal, waiting as patiently as he could for a response.

He waited a good minute before he heard Ezack's voice respond. "What is your location?"

"A good couple minutes away from you and Talle." Zell responded. "There was a guy pinning me down, but then he suddenly got up and left. It happened after something beeped and he examined a pager or something."

"Same here." Ezack said. "I don't know why he suddenly just let us go, but I don't like it. We should report back to the President."

"And shouldn't the Squad Leader have followed us?" Zell heard Talle jump in. "Where is he? He wasn't hurt that badly, was he?"

Zell suddenly had a bad feeling that Squall's sudden disappearance and the men in black were somehow linked. "We'll head back to the Residence for now. Maybe we can find out something about it there."

* * *

Ibrihim found himself leaning against one of the terminals in the situation room. Once Squall had broken contact with the Presidential Residence, he had found himself retreating into the room, trying to piece together what it was the SeeD thought he was doing.

By no means was Ibrihim stupid; he knew what the SeeD meant when he'd told them he'd made a choice. And the reasons why seemed to be obvious as well. But the fact was the Ragnarok was probably only moments away from landing near enough to his location. He would have escaped apprehension, but instead he chose to give himself up. He knew he was going to have to explain things to the Headmaster, and he also knew Kramer wasn't going to like it, but in the meantime they just simply had to prove that Squall was in Deling during the time of the murders.

The worst thing was that Squall surrendered himself to the Estharians without any knowledge as to what he had supposedly done.

"Sir," a woman with long dark hair dressed in a purple dress uniform said, standing at the door almost appearing to contemplate her timing. Ibrihim simply looked up at her, waiting for whatever it was she needed to say to be said. "The Ragnarok team has just made contact. Shall I transfer the call?"

Ibrihim knew that delaying the inevitable just wasn't an option at this stage and nodded in response. "In here, if you wouldn't mind."

The woman nodded in response and left his sight as Ibrihim sat down in one of the surrounding chairs. A moment later, the phone in the room rang and Ibrihim picked up on the second ring. "President Caraway speaking."

"Sir," he instantly recognized the voice belonging to Quistis Trepe, and frowned, knowing what he had to do. "I just witnessed the Estharian aircraft positioned east of the capital leaving. What exactly is happening?"

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Ibrihim frowned deeply, knowing that there was no easy way to explain the situation. "Operative Trepe, the Estharians have already accomplished what they set out to take care of in the Capital, so there is no reason for them to stick around."

"Do you mean—?"

"Yes, I do." Ibrihim interjected. "Squall Leonhart was taken into Estharian custody just a few moments ago. He surrendered under his own discretion, which is why the Estharians are leaving Galbadian territory. Unfortunately there isn't very much time to dwell on the matter. I have new orders for you from Operative Leonhart, and I wish to express them to you and the rest of his team in person."

"Alright." Quistis spoke. "The Ragnarok is just setting down now. We'll be at the Residence within the next ten minutes."

The contact was disconnected, and Ibrihim simply picked up the phone. He had another call to make.

* * *

**4:36:06**

* * *

Cid was currently looking over a couple of files that had only just recently been sent to his office, taking a pen to them to write a couple of notes onto them. He hadn't heard anything from the President – Galbadian or Estharian – and he was beginning to become worried. Of course he knew Squall was incapable of being responsible for the deaths that took place earlier on in the night – he had been on the opposite side of the world at the time – but from the last he had heard the Estharians were pretty convinced otherwise. He would just have to wait and find out everything from the Ragnarok team once they managed to get Squall out of the country.

_I know he won't like the idea of hiding, but it's the only thing that will work in his favour at this point in time._

The intercom suddenly beeped and the Headmaster pressed the button, activating it. "Yes?"

"Sir," Xu said from the opposite end. "There's a call for you on line three. It's President Caraway."

"Thank you Xu," Cid said, though he suddenly felt anxious as he picked up the phone from the receiver. "Headmaster Kramer's office."

"Headmaster, I'm afraid to inform you of the current situation." Caraway's voice came through the speaker.

Cid leaned forward in his seat, his anxiety growing. It wasn't possible; the Estharians couldn't have done what he thought they'd done. "What is it?"

"Moments before the Ragnarok arrived; Operative Leonhart arrived at the rendezvous point as originally planned. However, the Estharian ship had also landed in the vicinity and was being surveyed by Estharian soldiers. Needless to say, Leonhart was forced to make a decision."

"He didn't," Cid breathed, leaning back into his chair for support. It was one thing for the Estharians to locate and apprehend the SeeD by force, but for him to surrender unconditionally?

"I'm afraid so. Regardless of what I had to say, he had already made up his mind. The Estharians left shortly after the Ragnarok made contact with the city. I honestly don't know what else there is to tell you. The SeeD Operatives I have are reconvening at the Residence, and the Ragnarok team is on their way as well. Squall requested that the Ragnarok return to the Garden with Operatives Tilmitt and Dincht accompanying while the remainder of the forces stay under Galbadian command."

_Looks like Squall thought ahead, as usual…_ Cid commented to himself before speaking. "That sounds like a plan, though have the Ragnarok stop by the Centra continent in order to pick up my wife. She'll want to know what's going on as well."

"Of course. I'll let you know once they've left."

"Is there anything else he said?" Cid asked.

Cid heard the President sigh and knew without a doubt there was at least one thing. "He asked that Rinoa be made aware of what is happening. He doesn't want her to hear about this through some kind of rumour, but from someone who actually has some information about the situation."

"I'm not overly confident about doing that. Rinoa is an extremely emotional person, and the fact that she's a Sorceress is also a factor to take into account. While I agree that she has a right to know, she doesn't have very much control over her powers yet and the news of what's taken place might upset her to the point where she uses them accidentally. I'm sure she wouldn't want that to happen, almost as much as Squall would wish for her to be involved in this."

"I understand, Headmaster. I thought I'd just pass along the message."

The transmission was disconnected and Cid immediately activated the intercom once again. "Please send the Commander to my office. I believe it's time we tell him what's going on in Deling and Esthar."

Receiving an affirmation, Cid disconnected and allowed his head to hang into his hands. He had to figure out exactly what Garden was going to do about this. Of course, he had plans to head to Esthar in order to sort the mess out, but he needed to know that the Garden would be in relatively good care while he was gone.

He rose to his feet and stood by the window, watching the night sky and sighing heavily once again, hoping against hope that Squall was going to come out of this alright. While he was angry the SeeD had taken this course of action, he was much more worried about what would happen to him given the circumstances. He doubted he'd been informed of the charges being set against him, but thinking on it, he doubted things would have turned out differently had he known.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door to his office that caused the Headmaster to nearly jump out of his skin in shock. He turned around, just as the office door was opened and, standing just under the threshold was Irvine Kinneas. The Galbadian Sharpshooter was an average height of 6', dressed in a beige trench coat with matching hat, and a pair of black cow-boy boots. A pair of brown pants and a purple vest were what was hidden beneath the coat, and judging from the look on the teenager's face, he wasn't too happy.

"Sorry for being mighty inconsiderate of your privacy," Irvine started, the drawl from his southern-Galbadian accent showing through as he spoke. "But as you've probably already heard, I just hate it when I'm the middle man left out."

When Cid didn't respond, the former Galbadian resident headed towards him and leaned over the Headmaster's desk, his expression serious. "So how's about ya tell me exactly why you didn't see fit to notify myself or Rinoa of the situation in Deling City and why I just managed to overhear Xu explaining to the Commander of this here Garden why Squall, of all people, is being held accountable for the deaths of people he couldn't possibly have killed, what with his bein' so damned far away?"

Cid frowned slightly, making a mental note to give Xu her own office, with door and lock to boot. If it had been any other student, the entire Garden would have already heard about this. It was times like these Cid was rather grateful for Irvine's self control when it came to gossip.

Suddenly he caught movement from behind Irvine and spotted Rinoa standing where Irvine had been seconds ago, her hands on her hips and an equally serious expression on her features. "I'd like to hear the answer to that one myself."

Cid frowned deeply, knowing that he had no way of getting out of this one. Sighing, he rose to his feet, gesturing to the door. "You might as well close the door and have a seat. It's a very long story."

* * *

The ocean reflected the darkening sky that sat overheard of the aircraft he was currently on; revealing that they would soon be reaching their destination and that they were shifting time zones. He didn't really mind the change of time between the two largest countries of the world; he preferred the night anyway; mainly because it was far more silent then that of the day.

However, the sky and the tranquility that accompanied it were far off from Squall's mind as he watched the waters beneath pass by, allowing his thoughts to take over. By now, everyone had probably either been told or figured out on their own what he had done, and he hoped that they weren't too disappointed or angry at him.

Reigning in his thoughts, he mentally cursed himself for thinking about something so trivial. For as long as Squall could remember, he had always worried about how he was perceived by the people around him, whether he cared about them or not, and it always irritated him when he caught himself doing it. No matter how many times he told himself it didn't matter what others thought, it didn't help matters at all. Even now, as he waited for the Estharians to reach their destination and haul him in for interrogation, he was disgusted that he was worried about what everyone back at Garden and in Deling City thought about his actions. He had always hated that side of himself; wanted to forget that it even existed, but nowadays it seemed like a regular occurrence to probe the actions of another and compare them to their opinion of him.

Thinking back towards the task at hand, he took in a deep breath and released it. No matter what everyone else had wanted him to do given the circumstances, running away from the Estharians would have only made things far worse than they already were. Besides, he had nothing to hide from the Estharians. Whatever crime they were convinced he had committed he couldn't have done; he had been in Deling City for the past two months, so unless he could teleport or travel in the span of time it took to blink an eye, he found it unlikely that whatever charges were being held against him would hold for very long.

Having become bored with staring at the window, Squall slumped back into the seat he had been placed (or rather, shoved) into for the duration of the flight. His arms were now bound in front of him and just over to the side, the handcuffs keeping his hands tied together and having been wrapped around a handle located on the left hand side wall that would have otherwise been used to steady oneself if the plane ran into some turbulence along the way.

Squall had gathered (from what he had seen of the aircraft) that there were only two compartments; one to hold the soldiers and one for the technical teams and pilots. He had also guessed that the General (having seen him come aboard as well) would be popping in and out throughout the flight, and he had been proven right within the span of five minutes. At one point, the General had even reported to his superiors, probably letting them know that their mission was accomplished, but Squall had paid it little mind.

Now, just as he was losing himself to his thoughts once again, the door along to the right of him slid open and the General emerged from within the next room. Squall watched the elder man as he approached the pilots and confirmed for what had to have been the fiftieth time within the last half hour that they were on course. Squall could understand being thorough, but even he had his limits. The SeeD figured that the General was making up excuses to keep an eye on him and to make sure that he wasn't trying to escape.

_Not that they could stop me if I wanted to…_ Squall thought to himself. He was still fully junctioned from his mission in Deling City and, if he called upon the strength of the Guardians that dwelled within his mind, then he would have no problem snapping the chains that kept him restrained and jump ship. He could easily slow his descent by casting a simple float spell and make contact with the Garden from Fisherman's Horizon (although he doubted Dobe would be especially thrilled to see him so soon after the War's end).

Squall expected to see the General head back to where his men were being held, but was mildly surprised when he stopped a few feet away from him, although he betrayed no hint of his reaction as he merely just watched the man. From what he could see, the General appeared to be contemplating what he would say to his 'prisoner' and it seemed to be taking him a while to formulate the right thing to say. Squall could tell that the man was intelligent just by watching him; a man who thinks before he speaks wisely determines the consequences of his actions and evaluates the response from another being; be it an ally or an enemy.

'_Course, that doesn't explain Laguna… _

Although Squall understood that for the past seventeen years, Laguna had done an outstanding job running the country that had gone into hiding for so long, he couldn't understand what made the people of Esthar elect him in the first place. Of course, Laguna had explained it briefly before the mission to take down Ultimecia, but he didn't believe that anything could nearly be that cut and dry. Everything had to be done for a reason and the people being under 'Hero Worship' just didn't fly with him.

"You sure have some nerve."

Squall was jarred from his thoughts when the General had begun to speak. Squall just stared at him with the same level of indifference he portrayed anyone else. Still, he felt that maybe the General may leak out some information if he stayed quiet.

"Just sitting there as if this was just another trip to get you to yet another mission."

From what Squall gauged from the man who stood before him, the General was barely able to control his rage, and for that, Squall figured that the charge had to have been higher than he thought it would have been. It had to have been high for them to suddenly just invade Galbadian territory without so much as a warning.

"I hope that once we get to Esthar, you'll be made to pay for what you did." The General ground out. "I don't care who you think you are or who your parents are, but you don't ever get away with something like what you did."

Squall waited for the man to speak once more, but when it was apparent he wasn't going to say anything else, the teenager figured that he would have to drag the answers out of him. "I honestly don't care who my father is either. He could be some nomad who crawled up out from under some rock for all I'd know. But I have no idea what you're talking about, or what you're accusing me of doing."

The General punched the wall right next to the teenager's head, and Squall could tell from the sound alone that it must've caused a dent. Still, he didn't even flinch when the contact was made, and he awaited the man's next move. He had been interrogated before; the most recent being in the confines of the Desert District Prison after the failed assassination attempt on Edea, who had been possessed at the time and this man's actions didn't scare him in the least.

"First of all, you don't ever, _ever,_ talk about the President like that when you are in the presence of his solders; do you hear me?"

When Squall chose not to response, the General spoke once again. "And you know exactly what I'm talking about, so there's no need to play dumb anymore."

"If you don't believe me, then at least humour me for a while." Squall said. "I at least have a right to know that much, don't I? Besides, I don't believe I've been read my rights, do you?"

The General took in a breath before letting it back out and Squall watched as the man fell back into thinking. Eventually, he looked back at the teenager, a scowl gracing his features, and Squall wasn't at all positive if he was going to receive the answers to the questions that were plaguing him.

"I don't want to be accused of being uncivil towards a prisoner, so I suppose I'll tell you what the crime was, even though I'm just wasting my breath since you already know."

Squall rolled his eyes in response but the General failed to take notice as his frown deepened. "You have been arrested under the charges of murder leading into terrorism."

As the words ran themselves through his mind, Squall found that he was beginning to form more questions than answers. "I still have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar." The General spat out. "You began to murder five innocent people who were working on the United Confederation. You entered each and every one of their offices and murdered them in cold blood and, according to the evidence our specialists have collected, you did it all without remorse. Do you have something against the idea and prospect of world peace?"

Before Squall could even work his jaw open, let alone defend himself, the General cut him off. "Of course you would. World Peace would signify the end of SeeD and Garden as we know it. You would have to break apart disputes rather than be paid to start them. But not everyone can have what they want, so if you're not happy with the prospect of a peacekeeping, then do yourself a favour and consider a career change instead of taking out your frustrations on innocent citizens who are only doing their jobs and following orders! "

Shooting the SeeD yet another glare, he retreated from the cockpit and returned to the back room where his men sat during the flight. Squall allowed the back of his head to connect with the wall behind him, frowning deeply. He now understood why it was that Esthar hadn't cared when invading Galbadian territory, but it looked as though that this murder set them off and now he was being framed for the crime. He hoped that this situation wouldn't drag Balamb Garden or the rest of SeeD into the dispute, but so far, it appeared as though B-Garden would become involved at the very least.

Sighing to himself, Squall knew that he was innocent; knew where he had been during the time the crime took place and knew that he wasn't capable of killing in cold blood. He hated the idea of killing in the first place, and avoided it when at all possible. The fact that he had been responsible for two Sorceress' deaths didn't make him feel proud of himself in the least. In fact, he hated having had blood spilt onto his hands. It had been inevitable, but the thought didn't make him feel any better.

Despite knowing that he was innocent, Squall knew that he had no choice but to cooperate with the Estharians until this entire mess had been sorted through. He had nothing to hide from them; and he was certain that they would, eventually, see it as well. Looking back out the window of the plane, he silently hoped that the real murderer was caught and the situation was resolved before anyone else was caught in the cross fire.

* * *

He had found it nearly impossible to think when it had been time to leave the Residence.

Zell and the rest of the team had made it back to the Residence in record time, having ran the entire way back, but when they'd arrived, he'd recognized two additional people heading in the same direction as them. He'd realized, after getting a better look, they were Quistis and Nida and had wondered why they'd come along.

When they'd reached the Presidential Office though, all of Zell's initial questions were answered and he couldn't have been any angrier. Ezack and Talle had been much the same; mentioning how ungrateful the Estharians were by accusing a man who couldn't possibly have jumped to two different continents on opposite ends of the world in less than an hour, and the brawler could tell that Selphie and even the President weren't too happy about the situation either.

But the shit really hit the fan when Zell found out what Squall had done in response.

Taking his usual seat in the Ragnarok (which was behind the pilot seat on the right hand side), Zell took a moment to slam his fist against the arm rest before folding his arms across his chest. "Why did he do it?" he said, putting words to his anger. "Is he stupid? He knows they don't have any proof that he's done anything, so why would he go with them?"

The cockpit was filled with silence, even as Nida and Selphie prepared the Ragnarok for take off, the latter replacing the former as lead pilot. Ezack and Talle had both been instructed to remain at the Presidential Residence under the official orders of the Galbadian Government. "I'd say the bigger question is how the Estharians were able to find out his location." Selphie said at length. "I mean, Garden missions are classified, right? So technically, they should've gone to Balamb."

"That's what the Headmaster said," Quistis stated, from her seat behind Nida. "He believes the Estharians might have hacked into data records in order to find him."

"Wouldn't that have required a subpoena?" Zell asked. Quistis nodded in response. "But then why didn't they?"

"Maybe they thought that in the time they'd take to acquire a subpoena, Squall'd think of a way to escape." Nida suggested. "They believe that since he did it, they have all rights to hack into other people's records."

The co-pilot must have realized the other three were staring at him, because when he spoke next his tone took to a defensive sound. "Not sayin' that he's guilty. Obviously he couldn't have been in two places at once. But looking at it from the Estharians point of view, they would've had to have _something_ that would have synched his supposed guilt. Either that, or we've got a traitor at the Garden."

"But if there _is_ a traitor, then they'd have to be pretty settled in for them to have evaded detection for so long." Quistis pointed out. "Pretty much everyone would be a suspect."

"So does the Headmaster have anything in mind?" Zell asked.

"He seemed to, but he didn't let me in on anything." Quistis said. "And I didn't press him either. I was more concerned with getting Squall out of Deling before the Estharians got him."

_What could the Headmaster be planning?_ Zell wondered before Selphie's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Not that this conversation isn't really important or anything," Selphie started, "but, I think another question that should be addressed is who gets to tell Matron what's happening?"

Silence followed shortly after the question, and no one was foolish enough to question it. Along with the instructions to return to Garden, the entire team had also been informed to meet Edea Kramer at the Centra Orphanage located along the Cape of Good Hope. No one was entirely enthused about their next course, as the former Matron of the orphanage had not yet been informed of the current situation. Zell didn't blame the Headmaster for his decision, but still. It was annoying to have to in his place.

_Like when we thought we'd have to kill her during the war,_ Zell thought to himself. During the war, the Headmaster had made Squall in charge of the Garden so that he wouldn't have to make the decision, and thus putting the decision on everyone else. He had disappeared soon afterwards, only to re-emerge after Edea had given her powers away.

"So…" Selphie asked cheerfully. "Any takers?"

"Not it." Zell said immediately.

"Not it," Nida followed soon afterwards.

"Not it!" Selphie shouted a mere second before the former Instructor. Selphie took her eyes off the path in front of her for a second in order to smile meekly at Quistis. "Sorry, Quisty."

Quistis simply sighed in exasperation and Zell grinned to himself before speaking. "And anyways, you're the best when it comes to delivering news. Good or bad."

"And even better at defending the rest of us." Selphie chirped cheerfully.

Another loud sigh from the former Instructor, though nothing else was said on the matter. However, after another moment of silence, Quistis broke it. "After we head to Centra, we'll have to return to Garden briefly in order for the Headmaster to accompany us to Esthar." She looked to Zell before doing the same to Selphie as she spoke. "You two will have to act as character witnesses, since you saw him the entire time you've been stationed in Deling."

"But won't that mean we'll have to reveal our mission?" Selphie asked.

"No. All you need to do if that question ever surfaces is state that it is classified under the Garden-to-Deling contract that was forged upon mission acceptance." Quistis explained. "You won't have to say anything further on the matter."

"But won't they dismiss Selphie?" Zell asked suddenly. "Squall and I both did a lot of field work, and Selphie mostly tracked or movements."

"That should be more than enough of a verification that he was there," Quistis explained, "however if they do manage to suppress Selphie's testimony than quite frankly you're all we've got."

Zell gulped audibly, wishing that he hadn't actually asked that question. "Good point. Let's hope they don't."

* * *

Garden was a structure that almost everyone within the world knew of. It represented a third party that had begun to take form during a time when the idea of war was beginning to become further from people's minds. The original idea was for SeeD, the force that dwelled within the structure, to prevent another power-hungry Sorceress from taking the reigns of control and leading the world down a path of destruction and bloodshed. However, this vision had been lost due to corruption, secrecy and greed.

The one man to create this hope for the world had been too weak at the time to see that there were people within the world that would use his trusting nature for their own selfish advantages. This had cost him greatly in time and effort, and by the time he was able to regain the reigns of control, it had nearly been too late. The young people who made up SeeD had been completely ignorant to their force's true reason for existing and it had nearly cost them everything. Fortunately, they had been able to learn from past mistakes and recovered quickly in the face of their destined adversary.

These were the thoughts of that very man, currently residing at his desk. Curled between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand was a pen, which tapped along the side of his desk. He pondered the words he would use upon speaking with, not a subordinate, but rather a business associate. After all, Garden was run under two pretences; one was that of a school, teaching those who were in need of being taught the various necessities in life; such as literature, mathematics, sciences, etc.

In most cases, this description also co-existed with its other identity; that of a military base. The teaching part of the Garden was to ensure that the students knew all that they needed to know before joining the ranks of SeeD, while the military faction ensured that the graduates maintained such practices and knowledge so as not to put it all to waste. Even though such titles went hand in hand, the organization needed two minds to run the separate tasks smoothly.

While Headmaster Cid was in charge of the school-like tendencies Garden had adopted so long ago, a Commander of the military section was needed. Since the resignation of the previous commander had taken place, Cid had chosen his second choice to take over, which was why Conrad Greenwood was currently standing in his office, saluting him as if he were his superior.

Cid allowed the pen to rest atop of his desk before sighing out loud. "How many times do I have to tell you that we are equal in rank? There's no need for formalities."

"Sorry about that sir, er, Cid…" Conrad spoke in a Dollet accent. He was a well groomed individual, with short black hair kept in place at all times, and dressed in his SeeD uniform with a pair of standard military boots, although they had been buffed. Cid wondered briefly if everything that came into contact with the young man was folded precisely in a strategic order. _He's worse than Quistis…_ Cid thought to himself in amusement.

"It's a force of habit." The young man continued, moving out from his salute. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Cid nodded before leaning forward, his hands clasped together in front of his chin. "I understand that you have much to do in preparation for Garden and SeeD's career change, but this is a matter of urgency that cannot be ignored. Terrorists have managed to sneak into the Estharian Residence early this morning and murder five of the members of the United Confederation before being caught. The man escaped and the Estharians are under the pretence that Squall was the one who committed the acts."

Conrad appeared stunned at the explanation but said nothing as Cid continued. "The Estharians currently have him within their custody, and will most likely try to force a confession out of him."

"But according to Garden records, he was no where near Esthar City at that time." Conrad protested. "There's no way he could have committed the crime."

"I know. That is why representatives from Garden will be heading to Esthar in order to be present during the questioning process." Cid explained. "And I will be accompanying them. As one of the heads of Garden, it is my responsibility."

"But I can't seem to understand how the Estharians were able to apprehend him. And so quickly might I add…" Conrad stated. "He's one of our best; so obviously, it should have taken them longer to find and bring him in."

"Squall allowed the Estharians to capture him to prevent another war from beginning." Cid explained. "Unfortunately, with Galbadia in turmoil due to the invasion…"

"Invasion?" Conrad interrupted. "What exactly is going on, Headmaster?"

Cid sighed again, reminding himself that Conrad had not been involved with the original situation to begin with. "In response to the murders, the Estharian General felt that it was his civil right to recruit a squad of Estharians soldiers and to travel towards the Capital of Galbadia to retrieve him. The Galbadians are not thrilled with that knowledge and it's taking everything their president has to keep them from attacking Esthar."

"If this is the way the Estharians thank someone for saving their lives, then maybe it was a mistake to defeat Sorceress Ultimecia." Conrad stated. "I understand that SeeD was her ultimate targets, but in the end, she would have gone after Esthar just as she had taken over Galbadia. If it weren't for Squall, the whole world would be in shambles as we speak."

"I know that." Cid said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"And what's the President doing about all this?" Conrad asked. "What's his plan on dealing with the situation, considering that he is his son, after all?"

"President Loire is doing his level best to ensure that this entire mess is sorted out. He understands the impossibility of Squall's involvement, but the rest of Esthar doesn't seem to want to listen."

"Well it doesn't seem as though he's trying hard enough since one of our men is being detained by one of his people." Conrad argued before sighing deeply. "Still, it is probably his authority alone that is keeping his citizens from forming a lynch mob."

Cid rose from his seat, nodding in agreement to the second statement before speaking once more. "The reason I called you into my office is that this situation is to remain on a need to know basis while I'm away. Until the situation calls for it, I don't want any other SeeDs or students to hear about this."

"Of course not; I completely understand." Conrad nodded. "They all look up to him; I believe that everyone's moral would take a blow for the worst should this information leak out."

"Alright then," Cid said before the intercom came to life once again on his desk. Xu's voice came through the speaker and gained the attention of the two men.

"Sir, I've just received confirmation from the Ragnarok. ETA in Centra is fifteen minutes."

Cid pressed the red button on his desk before answering. "Thank you Xu." He said before cutting off the transmission. Nodding once to Conrad, he proceeded towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I have some preparations I need to see to before my transport arrives."

"Just a moment, Headmaster…" Conrad said, catching Cid's attention. "If I may be so bold, I'm getting the sudden feeling that you're not telling me all there is to know about your plans for the situation."

At this, Cid stopped his movements towards the door and turned to stare at the Commander of Garden. After a moment passed between them, he finally spoke. "I have informed you of all you need to know at the current time."

At this, Conrad nodded quickly and assumed a salute as the Headmaster left the room, all the while feeling that he was being left out of the loop about something.

* * *

_**5:00:00**_


	4. Hour 4

Chapter Posted: **02/06/2007**

**02/09/2007: **Fixed a small blunder on my part. Sorry about that.

* * *

**The following takes place between 5am and 6am.  
Events occur in real time.**

* * *

Four hours had passed and nothing seemed to be going his way.

Having sent Ellone back to her room for the night, Laguna had begun to pace inside of his office, a nervous habit he'd taken up during his time in the army and which he had fallen into during times where he was off duty. The most prevalent memory he could recall from this action seemed like a lifetime ago; where he, a silly Galbadian Soldier, had spent a large portion of the night with Julia Heartilly, back then an aspiring singer.

But while that had been nervous jitters caused by a silly crush, this time was far different. A few moments ago, he received word from the Airstation; the team of soldiers who had left Estharian borders without his permission were returning to the capital. Laguna had found the action odd; less than two hours ago, he had demanded the abortion of the mission and their return, only to have his orders go ignored. Now they were returning as easily as they had left. It had all seemed strange to him.

Until he'd found out why.

He stopped right in front of his desk before planting both hands – palm side down – on top of his desk and sighed. This whole thing was turning into one big mess after another and he wasn't sure if he would be capable of cleaning it up. It wasn't just about the murders anymore, or the fact that his own son was being accused of the crime, but because of the pigheadedness of his country's General, the treaty he had personally signed with the President of Galbadia was under threat and so was the confederation. It seemed now that the major parties were slowly becoming involved, and he couldn't see a means of resolving the issue.

He knew, however, what he could do to make things right.

Picking up his desk phone, Laguna manoeuvred his way around his desk (and the pile of paperwork he hadn't touched since word of the murders came to pass) and dialled a specific number, sitting down in his seat and initiating the speakerphone. He hoped he would be able to explain himself; that Orally hadn't messed things up beyond repair.

A moment later, he spoke to a liaison representative of the Galbadian Residence and was forced to wait a little longer as the liaison directed his call to the President.

It had been about four months ago when he had been introduced to the newly appointed President and man had he been surprised. The former General had also been shocked to receive word that he was in charge of the technologically advanced city and it had taken all of thirty minutes for the latter to get the former to stop saluting him; years of being in the Galbadian Military drilled into him. It had been then when the treaty had been drawn up and signed, under the witness of Gardens own appointed Commander, Conrad Greenwood, and the Headmaster, Cid Kramer.

Afterwards, when all the Garden personnel took their leave, Caraway and Laguna had got to talking; mostly about how they came to their current positions, but also about other things; specifically Julia (Laguna was still mortified that his former superior had found out about that). The former General had even apologized for the specific soldier's behaviour and his sudden shipping out the next day, and no matter how often Laguna tried to tell him that it was water under the bridge, Caraway wouldn't hear of it.

But then to find out that the nice girl who'd volunteered to accept Adel's powers right before the mess with Time Compression happened was his old General's daughter was startling.

To find out his own son was involved with her made him want to laugh out loud at the irony.

That discussion had also been how Caraway had found out that Squall and Laguna were related. In his opinion, it had only been fair; he knew that the Sorceress a ton of people were so concerned about was related to the President of Galbadia, so why couldn't Caraway know the same about the Estharian President and Garden's former Commander?

He was brought out of his mental musings when the liaison's voice came back on the line, alerting him that he was now being connected with the President and he held his breath. Some things weren't nearly as easy to talk about, and he wondered how Galbadia as a whole was doing after the sudden invasion.

The man he was waiting to speak to picked up on the other end, his voice edged with irritation. "You have some explaining to do on your behalf."

"I know what you're thinking, but let me just say that I didn't do it!" Laguna knew how childish those words sounded just as they left his mouth, and managed to fumble through another retort. "That didn't come out right; what I mean to say is that the Estharian Government had nothing to do with that invasion. My numbskull of a General decided to take matters into his own hands and grouped a squad of soldiers together without my permission."

A sigh came from the opposite end and Laguna knew – could just tell – that Caraway didn't believe a word he said. "Why would your General do something like that?"

"Because when I found out who they were accusing, I… well… I… I froze." Laguna frowned, knowing how pathetic that sounded. "They were saying that Squall just came in here and chose to kill those people, and I had to get my head around it. It didn't make any sense then and it sure as hell doesn't make any sense now. But by the time I was came around and jumped back into the conversation, Orally was already leaving the room."

"Does he know?" Caraway asked.

"If he didn't before, then he sure as hell pieced it together." Laguna said. "Man, I'm such a—"

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

"I thought he was just heading out to, to… I don't know what I thought, but I never expected him to pull this stunt. I told Garden right after I found out though, and the Headmaster had already sent out two operatives in order to bring Squall back to the Garden when I warned them."

Laguna heard another sigh and frowned, hoping the former General believed him. He knew how farfetched everything sounded, but dammit he didn't do anything to encourage this behaviour. When Orally got back, they were going to have words. "Why would I jeopardize the treaty? Especially since I'm one of the few people who knew what Ultimecia was planning to do? Beyond a Sorceress' attack, no one, outside of SeeD and a few others know that she lived in the future, let alone wanted to destroy time."

"So what do we do about this?" Caraway asked, the irritation leaving his voice slightly. Laguna gave a mental cheer at this; he was finally getting somewhere. "Your soldiers did a lot of damage when they arrived at the Capital, and even more so when they were trying to bring Squall in. My own soldiers are pressuring me to retaliate, but since you didn't have anything to do with the invasion, I can't in good conscience allow that to happen."

"I can try to stall the investigation when Orally gets back, I need to speak to him about this major screw-up." Laguna muttered the last bit under his breath. "But other than that, the cabinet would step on my toes. Apparently, my judgement is compromised just because I made the call to Cid and told him what was happening. I can't do anything else unless I want _them_ running the country, which I _don't_."

"Garden will be sending representatives to oversee the questioning process," Caraway explained, "in order to prevent it from becoming an interrogation."

"Good idea." Laguna nodded, despite the fact that the President couldn't see him. "I'll do my best to stall them before they show up."

"Contact me as soon as the team arrives." Caraway said. "And let me know after you've spoken to Orally. I want to hear about this."

"I'll try, but I might have my hands full." Laguna said. "But you will definitely hear from me when Garden shows up."

Caraway disconnected the call and after a moment, Laguna place the phone back onto its receiver before pressing the intercom button. "Send Kiros up here, will ya? I've got a favour to ask him…"

* * *

Quistis frowned as she took in the sight of the broken building that lay around her. While the Orphanage had been their home, it had been poorly maintained as the years had gone by, leaving behind nothing more than discrepant ruins. It was a small wonder that the woman they were looking for lived there in the first place.

Sighing, Quistis knew that the dilapidated state of her former home was not the only reason she was displeased. She would be relaying to their surrogate mother that one of her children was being tried for a crime he couldn't possibly have committed and that the worst part was he had allowed himself to be apprehended.

Approaching the front of the orphanage, she took in a deep breath, preparing herself before she knocked on the wooden door, which seemed to be one of the only things that remained intact throughout the aging process of the ruins. But movement to her left caught her eye before her knuckles could even connect to the object and she carefully walked in the direction of the movement. Keeping a hand on top of the combat knife secured at her side, she walked between the stone spires and headed towards the flower garden.

Upon seeing who had made the movement, Quistis immediately dropped her defensive stance and continued the rest of the way towards the end of the porch, sighing in relief. The woman she was searching for was within the massive ocean of flowers, tending to them with her seemingly natural green thumb. The former Sorceress had not changed at all since the end of the war. Her dark hair still fell to her waist and she still wore the familiar black dress with the grey sleeves. While most people would believe that this was the sign of a woman morning the loss of someone dear to her, Quistis felt that she brought out the colour in the otherwise mundane shade. Currently, Edea Kramer was also wearing a beige straw hat to keep the hot desert like sun out of her eyes and gardening gloves so as not to prick herself on the thorns on some of the flowers.

After collecting herself, Quistis slowly made her way down towards the beginning of the flowerbed, and began manoeuvring within the massive field so as not to harm any of the thriving wildlife. It took longer than she would have liked to reach the woman but not too much time for her to lose her patients. Edea's back was turned to her the entire time, and thus was the reason why she had not been spotted.

Suddenly the former sorceress stopped what it was that she was doing and turned to greet her visitor, smiling as she did. "Quistis…I have not seen you in a while. How have you been?"

Wishing desperately that she had come to visit on better terms, Quistis smiled back weakly. "We've been alright." She said, in reference to the others as well as herself. "We've just been busy."

"With the confederation," Edea nodded. "I completely understand. I know I for one would not wish for another incident such as Ultimecia to take place again. I am sure that you will all ensure that it will not."

The smile faded and Edea tilted her head to the side. "But I sense that this is not the reason you have come. What is wrong?"

Quistis smiled slightly despite the situation. Matron had always been able to read anyone as if reading a book. Even though she had passed on her powers to Rinoa during the War, Edea still retained some traces of them and thus seemed like a sorceress herself sometimes. "It's unfortunate that I'm not here on a social call, Matron. I actually have come to relay some disturbing news to you."

Edea fell silent as Quistis took in another deep breath. "There has been a situation that will undoubtedly endanger the production of the United Confederation. Someone, we're not sure who, entered the Estharian Residence at 1700 hours, Balamb Time. This would make it a little after 0200 in Esthar. The suspect then proceeded to locate random workers of the United Confederation, and kill them one by one. By the time the Estharians were able to find him, he had already successfully killed five of them.

"The suspect escaped, and is currently on the lookout. The worst part of this entire thing is that they believe that a SeeD from Balamb Garden is responsible for executing the act."

Edea appeared thoughtful for a moment and just as Quistis was about to interject, the elder woman spoke up. "They believe that it was Squall?"

Quistis looked at the woman in surprise. "How did you know?"

Edea sighed. "What the Estharians are suggesting is that they're security is impenetrable. They believe that whoever got past them either had to have used force, or was given access to the Presidential Residence. From the way you have described it, there was no sign of forced entry, correct?"

Quistis shook her head and Edea nodded, seemingly to herself. "And out of the Balamb SeeDs, who has the connections to be able to not only enter the Residence without any resistance, but to be able to murder that many people before being detected?"

Quistis lost herself in thought. It made sense after all. "Whoever is the real murderer knew that if he wanted to frame someone for the crime, he would need to make it believable. And because of that, they knew that only a select few would be able to pass for such a thing. Most of their options are mainly from our team because we defeated the Sorceress. But whoever started this also knew that he would have to choose between all of us, to make it even more believable. Squall is Laguna's son; the President of Esthar's son. Of course security would allow him access to the Residence at that late hour. The guard must have believed Squall had some business with Laguna."

"And only a handful of people in Esthar even know that they are related." Edea continued. "The ones who know are Laguna's close friends. Garden knows mainly to prevent any biased judgment when it comes to not only operations but between the countries themselves."

Quistis nodded, knowing that even Garden's knowledge of those circumstances had been limited until two months ago. It hadn't been the Headmaster's fault, since the minute he'd discovered the truth he'd made sure everyone in the Garden knew, to prevent rumours related to the subject.

Even still, that could only mean one thing.

"Which means that there _is_ a traitor in Garden," Quistis said. "Someone in Garden is working with these terrorists. That's the only explanation that would explain how they know about Squall and Laguna's relation. The Headmaster was thinking along the same lines as well, but he wasn't completely sure, at least from what I could tell."

"You had best return to Garden." Edea said. "You must this to Cid and you must do it quickly, before the traitor is able to leak any more secrets. And to warn Squall about what is happening."

"That's not the only reason I came here." Quistis said. "The Headmaster asked me to bring you back with us to Garden before heading towards Esthar."

Frowning deeply, Quistis forced herself to say the words she dreaded saying. "He…Squall surrendered to the Estharians and they're holding him in Esthar as we speak. He knows the Estharians are after him, but I don't think he knows what they're charging him with."

Quistis didn't even need to see the look of shock and horror that had passed over the former Sorceress' expression to know that it was there. Everyone had been devastated when they had realized what Squall had done. "From what President Caraway and the Headmaster have told us, he surrendered so that the Estharians wouldn't start a war with Garden. I don't agree with what he has done, but I think he feels that he had no choice."

"Then we must hurry." Edea said, her features set in a determined expression. "If the Estharians believe that Squall is guilty, then they will wish to force a confession from him. We must get there in time to stop it."

* * *

**5:12:43**

* * *

The remainder of the trip to Esthar had felt as though it had taken forever, but eventually they finally arrived at their destination. Squall remembered the previous time he had landed in the Estharian Airstation; when his team had been entrusted with a mission to defeat the Sorceress of the Future in the future, Ultimecia. The structure was the same as he remembered it; spectacular in its design and shape, and impressively futuristic in the eyes of anyone foreign to the country.

Of course the usage of the Airstation differed from what it had previously while the Estharians had stayed in hiding from the rest of the world. Instead of merely being a place for military planes to dock for fuel or land from scouting missions, it had turned into somewhat of an airport, one that many of the citizens chose to use when it came to traveling outside of what was once referred to as a Xenophobic Country. Desks and chairs had been added within the multiple rooms the building possessed, transforming them into adequate waiting areas for the passengers to spend their time before their flights departed. Food places also dominated the inner structure so the passengers of an upcoming flight could grab a bite to eat before leaving. The section that the Estharian planes docked was sectioned off away from the passengers, so as not to invoke fear from the civilians. It was military ground, so only authorized personnel were granted permission to roam within.

As soon as the plane had touched down, two Estharian soldiers and the General had entered the cockpit of the plane before detaching their prisoner, removing the handcuffs from the handle they were wrapped around before quickly reattaching them to the wrists of the teenager. Excluding his escape from the soldiers on the rooftop, Squall had shown no signs of struggle against the Estharians and he knew that it was making some of the more vocal soldiers suspicious of him, but he could have cared less as the situation progressed. He knew he was innocent, and they could question him about his whereabouts all they wanted, but he would stick with what he knew happened. It would anger them even more, but Squall sincerely doubted that it was any different from how they had reacted when they were first told that he had committed the crime.

Two of the soldiers shoved him forward and, because he was so lost in his thoughts, he stumbled slightly, barely managing to prevent himself from falling on his face as a result. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he simply righted himself and proceeded out of the plane with the two soldiers following closely. When they had walked out, the whole platoon of soldiers that had accompanied the General to Deling City were standing around their commander, probably in the middle of a debriefing, and security on the floor and near the exits was immense. However, Squall could see, from where he stood near the entrance of the plane, multiple routes that he could use to escape without being detected, but all of which involved using the added strength he acquired from the Guardian Forces he was still junctioned to. The only reason he didn't was the fact that any resistance could lead to a war between both Esthar and Garden, and there was no telling how long it would be before Galbadia joined in as well.

Soon enough though, the Estharian soldiers disbanded from their conversation and immediately filed into formation. As they lead him out of the docking bay, Squall couldn't help but wonder who would frame him so convincingly. Had it been just a normal impostor, they would have figured it out by now, and this whole mess would have never happened. But it had to have been someone who looked and sounded like him, but that was an impossibility. The only method of cloaking a voice was an electronic device designed for such a thing, but even machines weren't perfect and, if recorded or paid the proper attention, were easy to spot. Distinctiveness in a person's voice was so dominant that it could leak through the disguised voice.

As for the appearance, Squall could think of only two people who bore a striking resemblance to himself. One was already dead; had died a long time ago, and the other would never betray the country he had taken charge of. Whoever had pulled it off had to have thought this whole operation out rather quickly and tactfully for them to actually believe it had been him. Squall wondered bitterly if, whoever had framed him, had somehow managed to twist his own genetic code to actually match his own before dissuading the notion. DNA was the only thing in the world that was your own and it could never be altered or tampered with without the aid of chemicals.

Even then, it was extremely difficult to match DNA cells with a separate person. The only way that two people could share nearly the exact same biological data was if they were identical twins. Squall was a hundred percent certain that he was an only child, otherwise the sibling would have accompanied him to the orphanage, and as far as Ellone had explained, it had just been the two of them. Since that was the case, then he was positive that that was also an impossibility.

As he wracked his brain for any conceivable reason as to why the Estharians would be so dead certain that he was their murderer, he realized grimly that he couldn't come up with any. He was absolutely stumped as to how it happened, and was even more clueless as to how to prove his innocent. They wouldn't take his word for it, nor the words of those he grew up with, due to personal bias. The only way he could prove he didn't commit the crime would be to get the Estharians to watch security tapes based back in Deling City, which proved that he was routed in Galbadia during and before the time of the crime.

A voice calling his name jarred him out of his thoughts and he turned to face the direction the call came from. He was surprised to see a dark tall man quickly walking towards the group, dressed in the common dress of the Estharian robes, this one with a brown stripe running down the middle. He wore the small hat that came along with it, but the garments seemed out of place on the former soldier of Galbadia.

Kiros must have gotten the General's attention as well, because the man stepped in-between the two. Squall noted grimly that the two soldiers behind him tightened their grip on him, as if they were afraid the newcomer would take away their prisoner.

"What business do you have here, Seagill?" The General asked formally, although with the way he addressed the dark skinned male, Squall discerned that the General had issues with his father's long-time friend and comrade. "If it's to remove the prisoner from our custody, you can just go back to the President and tell him that you couldn't do your job."

"I'm not here to take him with me." Kiros said, not appearing to be intimidated by the man. "I just need to talk to him for a quick second."

"Why?"

"Just call me a messenger." Kiros shrugged. "I have a message to deliver to him from the President. And unlike you, I follow my orders."

_So Laguna didn't give them the go-ahead to go to Deling City…_ Squall thought to himself. _Does this mean that their arrest procedure was invalid, or is Laguna the only one on the board who didn't know about it?_

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" the General challenged, but Kiros waved it off.

"You can take it however you want to. Right now, I have someone to speak to, and I'd prefer to do so in private."

"I don't think you have the authority to—"

"You don't think the authority of the President is enough?" Kiros interrupted. "The President of the Country that you are working for? Then whose jurisdiction would you follow exactly? Adel's?"

Before the General could defend himself, Kiros immediately jumped in once more. "This isn't up for debate, Orally. I have my orders from the President, the highest authority in this country, and if you wanna complain about it, feel free to go visit his office. He's got a few things he wants to say to you anyway, so by all means go ahead. But you are not preventing me from doing what I came for. And if you do, I'll have you arrested under the charges of preventing council from a parental figure towards his ward. Now if you don't mind, get out of my way."

The General glowered at the other man for a moment before suddenly turning around and signalling to his men. Squall noted that the soldiers behind him released their hold on either of his arms before watching the General turn his attention back towards Kiros. "You have two minutes. No more than that."

"Believe me, it won't take that long." Kiros said, levelling the General with a neutral stare. After a moment, the General signalled to his men to keep walking, but appeared to be giving an order to the two soldiers who had been behind Squall in the first place. Squall figured that it was probably an order to break up the conversation between the two of them after two minutes were up.

As soon as the soldiers were out of earshot, Kiros turned his attention towards the SeeD, shaking his head as he did. "You're either extremely certain that this whole thing is gonna blow over, or you're really stupid, you know that?"

Squall shrugged. "I know I'm innocent."

"I know you are too, but you could have laid low until this entire mess was sorted out."

"It would have begun a war between Esthar and Garden." Squall argued. "I refuse to be the one who started it."

"Regardless of your actions, a war probably will start, but in either respect, it will be because the General of Esthar was so insistent that you were guilty that he had to invade a country, of which we are trying to establish peaceful ties with, and drag you back using force." Kiros protested. "Do you honestly believe that the Galbadians will let that fact rest, even though you came here without resistance? Caraway may be the only thing preventing a war from breaking out now, but he won't be able to stall for long."

Kiros took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "But I didn't come here to berate you on your actions…as stupid as it was…"

_Then can you get to the point?_ Squall thought irritably to himself.

"Your father…" Upon receiving an irritated glare from the teenager, Kiros cleared his throat, looked around to make sure no one was listening in, and reiterated. "…The President…told me to tell you not to answer any questions the Estharians may ask you."

Before Squall could utter a sound, Kiros held up his hand to stop him. "I know you don't have anything to hide, but it's so that the Estharians can't twist your words around as easily as they want to. Trust me on this; we have the technology to do it. So avoid answering anything until representatives from Balamb Garden arrive to foresee the interrogation."

Squall frowned slightly. Refusing to co-operate throughout questioning would only make him appear guilty. Of course, he also understood that Kiros held a valid point. If the Estharians wanted to believe that he was the one responsible for the deaths that had taken place earlier in the morning, then they would use any means to make it seem that way, even if he was innocent. Finally, after a moment to mull the request over, Squall nodded his consent.

Kiros nodded once before looking behind the teenager and shaking his head. "Apparently, our two minutes are up. I'd better head back to the residence anyways and let Laguna know." Frowning slightly, the taller male added almost as an afterthought, "He's not a bad guy, you know."

Sighing, Squall had figured that the topic was unavoidable. "I know." He replied honestly. "But we're far too different to ever get along."

Kiros nodded to himself before the soldiers finally stopped beside the two. "Your two minutes are up."

Rolling his eyes, Kiros folded his arms across his chest before nodding once. "Okay, fine. Have it your way. Well Squall, it was nice talking to you…even under the present circumstances."

Squall didn't even have the chance to nod in agreement as Kiros turned his back on all of them and headed towards one of the other docking gates. Squall assumed he was heading towards the Presidential Residence. The guards then grabbed a hold of the teenager and began the task of hauling him towards the exit the other soldiers had used to leave the docking area. Squall wasn't the least bit surprised to see that it was in the opposite direction that Kiros was heading in.

* * *

Once the Estharian Airstation had received word of the Estharian soldier's return, aside from the President, the cabinet of Esthar had been the first to know. The cabinet had been a long standing Estharian organization, even in the days of Adel's tyranny, though the use of it had changed considerably since she had been ejected from power. Rather than spy on the citizens of the capital city, they were used to issue complaints or suggestions from the people in order to better the city. Years of being confined in one place left most of the citizens, particularly the younger generation, wanting to explore the rest of the world, and it had been the cabinet, with much encouragement from the President, that other cultures be explored within the city in order to broaden everyone's horizons. Many of the civilians, who mostly dressed in the official Estharian garbs and robes, were dressing in casual fashions from all over the globe, particularly from Galbadia and Balamb regions.

Aside from the people's opinions, the cabinet was also created to further assist the President in running the government. Too much power went to a person's head rather quickly, and it was the cabinet's job to distribute that power, in order to make judgement calls in the event the President could not.

This was one of those times; the cabinet had convened earlier than normal this particular morning; they had all been roused out of their beds and when the knowledge of a murder had taken place, all nine of the cabinet members had known what was expected of them and had immediately made their way towards the Presidential Residence. Each one sat at their place behind a large translucent table made of Plexiglas, their chair bottoms – one point instead of four – barely reaching the floor beneath them.

Sitting at the head of the table was the director, Jared Ashen, hand chosen by the President himself. Unlike the rest of the cabinet, who were wearing purple robes with a black stripe running up the center, he wore an immaculate white dinner jacket overtop a blue dress shirt and a pair of white pants and shoes. He had tanned skin; short dark hair and a goatee to match.

He sat with his head bowed in front of him. Since they'd convened at four in the morning, he had been forced to break up disputes across the table about the crises. The only thing they knew about the circumstances was that Squall Leonhart, one of the SeeDs sent to defeat the Sorceress, had killed five people working on the United Confederation, and that the Estharian General had set out to apprehend him himself. He didn't agree with the General's actions and was pushing for a Court Martial for his actions, and he was especially worried about the consequences of the brash general's actions. They had just gotten through one war, barely he mentally added; they didn't need another one.

But it was clear that, aside from the General's actions being inexcusable, the cabinet agreed on something; the President's judgement was being compromised by the sudden attack. That had been made apparent when the representative of Southern Esthar City, Mark Hummel, had overheard a conversation between the President and his niece about warning the Garden. He had been worried when he'd learned President Loire's son was involved somehow, but hadn't been about to remove him from power; the City needed a strong leader and as far as he was concerned Laguna had proven himself by leading the resistance and getting rid of Adel, especially when his niece had been the one involved.

Still, he had to remind himself that the two circumstances under question were entirely different in that the niece had been a target of Adel whereas the son was being accused of terrorist acts.

Sighing, he raised his head to address the rest of the cabinet – the men and women he was working with. "So it is agreed that the President's judgement has been compromised and that as the cabinet and second leading power in Esthar, we have no choice but to oversee decisions without him."

No one spoke; it was clear that everyone agreed.

"Very well," Jared continued. "So under this new set of developments, it is up to us to make the arrangements for the questioning process. Carol Shu will stand witness to the questioning.'

The woman in question nodded from near the opposite end of the table from the Director. "Very well. Media coverage of this situation has been limited, is that correct."

"Yes it has." A man sitting next to Shu answered. "The only coverage this incident is receiving is that the suspect is a SeeD, and the victim's names will not be disclosed until relatives have been contacted."

"Good." Jared concurred. "Stall the update for as long as possible. This is a questioning procedure, and despite positive identification from both the evidence and the witnesses, we must continue as though we are still investigating. Unless the suspect actually says he committed the crime while we question him, it won't do a damned thing. Meeting is adjourned."

* * *

Activities within the Garden remained the same, despite the ongoings that were currently taking place. Unless their rank discerned that they knew what had happened in the capital cities of the two powerful countries of the world, they were ignorant that something terrible was happening, so thus they went about their normal habits throughout the day, despite that it was nearing curfew. SeeD cadets were practicing in the Training Center, others were in the library, and the people who weren't were either in the cafeteria or in their dorms.

He snorted at this; Garden had grown far too soft from the knowledge he had learned.

Even though there were SeeD members wandering around at this time of night (probably having returned from their missions, he'd surmised), he was still able to move about on his own without being seen or heard from anyone else. He wasn't too concerned with getting caught though; he'd been in the Garden for nearly two months and still no one had spotted him.

Which was a good thing; he really couldn't afford to be caught at this point in time.

Having found a secluded area within the Garden, he pulled out the laptop he had stashed underneath his navy-blue hooded sweat-shirt, found an outlet and plugged it in. When the machine had finished loading, he quickly typed in his user name and password, allowing him access to a page he had recently been reading before being forced to move. The information he'd been compiling up until this point in time was intriguing to say the least. It wasn't completely what he had been looking for though; he'd learned that the best way to move around was to be well aware of the events happening around oneself. But to know that unsettling things were happening in Deling City – something about an invasion on Esthar's part – was intriguing all the same. He'd have to catalogue it as information for later though.

He didn't know what the new plan was; only that it had been started. Something big had happened in Esthar though; it was all over the radios and he had been quick to keep an ear on all the frequencies he could. Apparently some bigwigs in the Presidential Residence got iced and the Government suspected a rogue SeeD had done it.

There was only one person he could think of that could pull something like that off without getting captured, but he doubted _he'd_ have anything to do with it.

Still, from what he'd managed to hack from Galbadia, he figured it'd be a good time to switch frequencies; find out exactly what happened to piss off the public so much.

Before he could though, he felt his cellphone vibrate inside of his dark colour pants pocket and, sighing, he reached in and grabbed the object, flipping it open and speaking barely above a whisper. "You rang?"

"Just making a progress report," the other voice – distinctly male – responded. "What have you found?"

"Nothing yet, but I did hear about those murders. Can't get good help these days, can ya?"

He heard a sigh from the other end and knew he was in for yet another session of chastising. He wasn't wrong. "That wasn't what I told you to do."

"Well, what can I say? I get bored easily, so I gotta keep up with current events. It'd really suck to know that something big happened and I missed it…not that I could really do anything about it where I am."

"Well, while you research current events, might I remind you that I gave you this mission because you are the only one who could pull it off without drawing much suspicion..."

"Especially if I keep outta sight; I know that already."

"Make sure you remember it. I don't want these last two months to be a waste."

"Trust me, they already are," he muttered under his breath. "Like I said, nothing on what I'm looking for yet, but if Garden is involved in those attacks…"

"The only connection Garden has is that a SeeD member is being accused of the crime."

"Is it who I think it is?"

"Knowing you, you've guessed correctly. But it might have a connection to why you're here. So get back to work. I'll fill you in on the details later."

"Going somewhere?"

"Just heading out on some business. I'll trust that you'll have a full report on your findings when I return."

"Maybe before then, but yeah, at latest when you get back, which should be…"

"It depends on the situation, but I'll be sure to let you know."

"Goodie." He shook his head. "I'll look forward to it."

His contact hung up, and he sighed. Paper pushing wasn't exactly in the list of things he wanted to be when he got older, but he also hated leaving a job undone. Cracking his knuckles, he returned his attention to the screen in front of him and got back to work.

* * *

**5:33:51**

* * *

Laguna looked up as the door to his office opened up, revealing his friend of over twenty years in the doorway. Kiros quickly closed the door behind him and activated the locking mechanism; this time typing in a code so that they're conversation would go uninterrupted. Laguna could tell without looking that his expression revealed his worry but he didn't care.

"I told him." Kiros said, and Laguna sighed in relief. "Damn near couldn't get past Orally though. Man, the guy is convinced that Squall's a killer."

"We know that it's not true, but it's going to take some proof to convince the rest of Esthar." Laguna said, Ward nodding in agreement behind him. "How much longer until the proceedings?"

"Not long now actually." Kiros said. "Seems like they're not wasting any time here, since Orally wants to question him immediately."

Ward made a face and Kiros laughed lightly, shrugging in response. "Sorry Ward, you're right. It'll be more of an interrogation than anything."

Laguna frowned thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the top of his desk. He could tell that both of his long time friends were watching him carefully; he didn't tend to adopt an expression as serious as he had now. The General was hell-bent of dragging a confession from the SeeD, and Laguna was almost terrified at what he would do to retrieve it. He had to think of some way to alleviate his fear that something horrible was going to happen when his head snapped up.

"I've got it!" he said, smiling for the first time in the last five hours. He quickly turned to address the bigger of the pair standing in front of him. "Ward, I need you to head down to the holding section of the residence and make sure that the General stays in line during the questioning."

"Which won't be much I assure you." Kiros shrugged. "Squall knows not to say anything unless Garden officials are there."

Ward nodded in response and immediately headed towards the door. Laguna just hoped that they hadn't begun the interrogation just yet.

* * *

The General of Esthar couldn't have been more livid than he was at that point.

It was at times such as this that he hated the laws that awarded the prisoners the right to council. It made things so much more difficult, and he didn't want to have to wait until the Garden Representatives arrived. He had been informed of this by the Estharian Cabinet Representative, Carol Shu, who had accompanied him to the holding station, and it had set his mood afoul. She didn't seem to be happy about it herself, and was currently tapping her fingers along her upper arms in an attempt to by-pass it.

As soon as Shu, Orally and the Attorney General, Amanda Denver, had come into the room and had begun the questioning process, the suspect had stated he would answer no questions until his council showed up. Denver had tried every trick in the book to get him to talk; telling him that it would do no good to stall the investigation and that he was in enough trouble already, but by then he'd gone mute. Currently, Denver was speaking with her superiors, having understood his rights, and leaving Orally and Shu to their own devices.

"Dammit…" The General said, slouching into a chair stationed outside of the interrogation room. "Looks like he's got us beat here. Unless his friggin' council shows up, he's not saying a word."

"That's not necessarily true…" Shu said, looking up from her train of thoughts. "There is always one way we could get him to talk."

The General thought about what she was insinuating before immediately shaking his head in response. "No. Absolutely not. We're not Adelists here; we're not going to resort to force in order to get the answers we need."

"But it seems as though it's the only chance we have to get some concrete evidence against him." The representative protested. "I know it would make us just as bad as Adel herself while she was in rule, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't resort to it."

"Don't we have to wait for the Attorney General to return?" Orally argued. "It's against protocol to continue to question the suspect when she isn't even present."

"From the looks of it, Denver gave up in there." Shu explained. "She's not coming back here, that's for sure."

Just as Orally was about to protest once again, the soldiers who were stationed outside of the room spoke up. "I agree with the representative." The soldier said. "We need to get a confession from him, and if beating him up is the only way to do it, then so be it."

"I agree." The second soldier stated. "I'd say it's better than what he deserves after what he did to those people. Maybe it's high-time that he realizes the kind of suffering he's caused on those who lost their loved ones earlier this morning."

"But he's junctioned with Guardian Forces." Orally protested. "Even if we did decide to beat the answers out of him, which could end up being used against us in the end by the way, it probably wouldn't hurt him nearly as much as we'd have wanted it to."

"But who's to say that there isn't a sort of light switch to prevent his junctions from protecting him." Shu argued. "There's a magic-barrier inside of each interrogation room, which negates any form of magical amplification or any form of magic period. Who's to say that we couldn't just use that in our favour?"

"That's why it was installed to begin with." One of the soldiers stated. "To prevent prisoners who knew how to manipulate magical energies from using those talents to escape. Not even Adel herself would have been able to escape from here."

"Look General, I don't agree with the tactic either, in fact, I find it ludicrous that I was the one to broach the subject." Shu explained with a shudder of disgust. "But it's the only option we have left, besides waiting for Garden to come by and manipulate his answers, or going to the President with our concerns. I don't know about you, but I personally would like to get this procedure over with, and you've said it yourself. The President has sentimentality towards the prisoner because they're related to one another, so obviously that bypasses his judgment on the matter."

The General closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift into thought. He hated the idea of torturing anyone, even during war. Torture should only be used as a final resort and in war that was always the ending principal. Loire would be of no sufficient help, since his judgment was clouded with parental instincts, and waiting for someone to arrive when they had the guilty party within their grasps didn't make any sense in his mind.

So it was with that thought in mind the General gave a heavy sigh before nodding in response. "Alright… we'll continue the questioning process in a few minutes."

* * *

Almost immediately after being taken to the security sector of the Estharian Residence, Squall had been placed within the confines of an interrogation room, seated in a wooden chair facing the wall behind a simple wooden table. He sat slouched back, his arms folded in front of his chest resembling a semblance of calm which, by all rights, was entirely superficial. Mentally speaking, Squall was a nervous wreck, but it wasn't because he knew they would find out something he was hiding, since of course they would find nothing.

He was worried about his comrades and Garden itself. The fact that they could twist his words around and make him seem guilty when he wasn't was reason enough for him to keep his mouth shut during the interrogation, but the fact that they could turn his silence around unnerved him as well. What if they decided to threaten Garden in order to pry the questions out of him? He would be damned if anything happened to his home and the people that he cared about just because the Estharians were too stubborn to believe that he could actually be telling them the truth.

But these worries had not prevented him from following through with the agreement he had made with Kiros. If he did say something, it could inevitably be used against him, and there was no way he could allow that to happen. Garden would go to war against Esthar for twisting the situation around and blaming a member of SeeD of instigating the conflict, while Esthar would just stand by their belief that he was guilty to begin with. At this point in time, Squall didn't want to even think about the possibility of Galbadia's involvement.

So he had sat calmly as the General, the Attorney General and the Cabinet representative of Esthar had thrown out question after question.

The only time he had responded verbally to anything any of the people in front of him had been after the first question had been asked, when Squall had announced his silence until the representatives of Garden had arrived and were in this room as well, monitoring the conversation. Mentioning something like this was akin to refusing to answer any questions without a lawyer present. Squall was still entitled to his rights, and those rights stated that unless he had the responding representative present, he had the right to refuse to answer until they arrived.

Eventually, the General and the representative had grown tired of the one sided conversation and had excused themselves, leaving the confines of the room and leaving the SeeD alone to his thoughts.

Squall scowled at himself as the same doubts that had plagued his mind for the past two hours had resurfaced, and proceeded in beating them down with logic. It was because he didn't want to see those around him hurt that he had chosen to surrender. Running would have led to needless bloodshed and he refused to be a part of it. Besides, he never ran away from anything in his life, and he was going to be damned if he started now.

He already knew what it was that he was going to do. Escape was not an option this time, as it would have been under any other circumstance, but he would not comment on anything until Garden representatives arrived. He would not give the Estharians any reason to believe that he was their murderer, and hopefully they would realize their mistake so that they would be able to start searching for the real murderer.

The guards could take all day to return for all he cared, his thoughts among other things. One thing was certain; whoever committed the murders had thought this entire thing through, which meant that he had not acted alone, as the Estharians were being led to believe. The man they were looking for probably had a group backing him up; there was no way that one person alone could pull this whole thing off. They would have needed help, and connections. For instance, how had the Estharians known so quickly that he was in Deling City? They would have had to have been given the information, since hacking systems tended to take a little while, especially in Garden when everything was monitored consistently.

_So there's either a traitor in Garden, or in Esthar…possibly both. It wouldn't be Kiros or Ward; they're loyal to Laguna. The same goes for Sis too, she would never go against him. It may be someone within the cabinet, or someone else that holds sway over decisions. It wouldn't make sense to put someone on the inside without them having a practical use or access to valuable information. _

As his thoughts continued to hold their possession over his mind, questions began to plague him and when he discovered the answers to them, then more questions would arise in a continuous cycle. Someone within Garden would have had to given access to the Estharian ship, which meant that there was definitely someone on the inside who had wanted the Estharians to find him. The knowledge that only a select few knew exactly who his father was also helped him come to this conclusion, and also aided in the possible existence of a traitor within Esthar. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone slipped up, but that didn't mean it would happen before the situation escalated even further; possibly to the point where he wouldn't be able to help his comrades and family at all.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut broke him from his train of thought and he looked up to see the Estharian General flanked with two of his soldiers. The Cabinet representative was standing off to the side; seemingly blocking his view from the door. The Attorney General was nowhere to be seen.

The representative nodded her head as the clicking of the electronic lock resounded within the otherwise desolate room, and Squall rose to his feet, steeling himself for the worst. The gesture must have put the Estharians on alert as well, for they suddenly appeared on either side of him, and just as Squall was wondering how they could move so quickly, he felt a sort of draining sensation. It wasn't like the draining effects of the spell of the same name, which continuously zapped at the target's strength and rejuvenated the spell caster, but it was ominous all the same.

Reaching into the section of his mind that housed his Guardian Forces, he was surprised to find that they were being suppressed. He could barely sense them at all, let alone tap into the extra powers they granted him.

The added information didn't add any reassurance in the teenager's mind; in fact it squashed whatever positive notions he had left of the situation. He had had a feeling something like this was bound to happen; since he wasn't co-operating and giving into them, they were planning on a real interrogation. Of course he had been up against torture tactics before, and he could hold his own against them, but that didn't mean he enjoyed the notion.

The two soldiers clamped a hand on each of the teenager's shoulders before forcing him back into his seat and, without his junctions, he couldn't remove their grasp. As soon as he was seated once again, he frowned deeply, waiting for what the General had in store for him.

"Don't bother trying to break out of their grip." The representative stated, folding her arms across her chest. "Right now, precautions have been assured to prevent you from using the additional strength granted to you by your Guardian Forces. It'd be far easier to just co-operate with us."

The General walked around the table stationed between him and his prisoner and Squall tensed in anticipation, waiting for whatever tactics the General was preparing to use. But what surprised the SeeD was that in the General's hands was not a weapon, but a manila folder, filled with something that he wouldn't be able to identify until he was able to get a better look at it.

One of the soldiers stepped aside as the General approached the teenager and immediately afterwards, dropped the manila folder on top of the table before quickly opening it up. Within were a few documents and photographs, which caused the SeeD to raise an eyebrow. He didn't have any time to think about the strangeness of the setting, however, since the General immediately grabbed one of the pictures and shoved it into the teenager's face. The picture was of a man with greying brown hair and brown eyes, dressed in a casual blue golf shirt and a pair of white pants. He was standing beside two adult females; one with dark brown hair, and the other with blond hair and light brown roots, telling Squall that she had dyed her hair. Both were dressed in white tennis uniforms and the group of three were smiling at the camera, as if nothing had gone wrong.

"Chase Douglass; age 64. Married for 15 years, he has two daughters and a grandchild who is just approaching her first birthday."

Moving that picture out of view, the second picture was a grisly sight. The before mentioned man was lying face up, a puddle of blood resting just underneath his neck, where a cut stared up into the light from one ear to the other. Judging by the angle, Squall was almost positive that the entrance point of the knife had been from the right ear and stroked towards the left, meaning that the perpetrator had to have been either left handed or ambidextrous. Squall frowned thoughtfully; he was ambidextrous but tended to also favour his left hand.

"He was the first to die; killed in his office without mercy, his throat being slit from ear to ear." The General continued. "What do you suppose his children and grandchild will say to his murder? What of his widow? What do you suppose we should tell them?"

Before Squall could even make a sound, the General removed the two pictures from view and revealed two more; this time of a woman who couldn't have been any older than her mid forties. She had shoulder length dark hair and green eyes and was dressed in a fuchsia coloured kimono in the picture taken while she was still alive. The second photograph depicted her seated at her desk, only her eyes were blood red and there were signs of strangulation having taken place. "What about this woman's husband? What about her sister and her nieces and nephew? How should we explain to them all the reason Kristina Markesan is late from coming home from work, or why she's never coming back?"

The third set of pictures depicted a man with dirty-brown hair and light blue eyes. He was standing behind a woman with his arms draped around her shoulders. In the photograph the woman was looking back up at the man but in the second photo right beside it, the man was lying on the ground, his neck bent in an awkward position. "Or how about the woman in the photograph? How do you suppose we tell her that her cousin is dead?"

The forth pictures had a man with dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in a brown business suit with a white shirt and black tie underneath. His arm was draped around the shoulders of a younger man who was no doubt the man's son, dressed with a black cloak and a black square-shaped hat that signaled graduation. Both were smiling in that picture. However in the one adjacent from it showed a man with a small gap in the area that would have housed his wind pipe. From what the SeeD could tell, he must have suffocated due to the lack of air circulating towards his cardiac vessels leading towards the heart. It was a long and painful way to die.

"This one was still alive for a little while, but by the time we arrived, the damage had been done and we were far too late. The poor man couldn't even speak? Do you suppose it'll be easier on those who will have to tell his son exactly what happened to him?"

As the fifth photograph was pushed into view, Squall had no idea what to think about any of this. It seemed as though the murderer had taken a point to make his victims suffer before they died, and none of these people had been spared the notion. The final picture depicted a man with dark greying hair standing next to a man who appeared to be a younger version of the victim. While one was dressed in a very professional manner, the other appeared far more laid back; wearing a ruffled shirt and a pair of loose jeans with holes in them. Both appeared to be glaring at one another, but upon looking into the eyes of the occupants, one could tell that they were extremely close.

"Maybe you'll feel better knowing that this man hardly had any relative's left." The General was saying, breaking through Squall's line of thoughts. "But that won't ease the pain of his younger brother, who was living in the same apartment. Fortunately, his body was the one that had you caught; since you left the murder weapon behind, but that's not even worthy of being considered a reprisal!"

Upon turning his attention towards the photograph beside the first, Squall resisted the urge to look away, having already seen the result of the other four victims' encounter with the murderer. A blade had been imbedded within the confines of the man's stomach, more than likely puncturing an artery and organs. In fact, it looked as if the weapon had been turned in a ninety degree angle, twisting the victim's insides and causing internal damage that probably wouldn't have been properly healed had the man survived the attack.

Squall understood that killing was a part of what it was to be a SeeD, and despite the fact that Garden was changing its morals; the teenager knew that he had killed before; during battle while defending himself and getting his missions completed. Just because the circumstances were far different than this one didn't excuse the fact that his hands were stained with his opponents' blood, but all the same Squall understood that it had been necessity at the time. It was either kill or be killed; a SeeD could not hesitate in battle, otherwise he risks the lives of not only himself, but his team-mates and clients as well. What this man had done had been purely self beneficial; cruel and twisted. The man had murdered in cold blood and Squall now understood why they had been so angered by this attack.

To believe that anyone was capable of such a cold-hearted act was disgusting in itself; but to know that a man of whom the world was thankful for saving them had done was far more disheartening.

He wanted to deny that he was involved; that he had had absolutely nothing to do with the horrific crime and that he was sorry that it had even taken place, but his voice wouldn't work. Whenever he tried to say the words he so desperately wanted to say, it felt as if his throat was stopping his vocal cords from vibrating; from conducting the simplest of actions that anyone else would have been able to do. His throat was dry; not out of fear, but out of anger mixed with sorrow for not only the victims that would never again awaken to the world around them, but to those who would suffer the most because of this crime.

"You're silence says it all, murderer." The General spat, venom apparent in his own gruff voice. "The fact that you have nothing to say on your behalf is what proves that you are, in fact, guilty. The fact that you refuse to utter a word of defence speaks louder than any words of denial ever could. At least you're human enough to actually feel guilt for the crime you committed.

"You're the same, all of you. You believe that because of your connections you can get away with anything; be it some low petty crime, or taking away a life – important to the government or otherwise. Well let me just tell you something; no one is above the law, and no one, regardless of their connections, is above paying for their actions."

It was then that Squall was finally able to find his voice before shooting up from his seat so quickly that the soldier standing behind him, who had relaxed his grip on the teenager's shoulder, not only couldn't grab a hold of him once more, but actually fell backwards onto his rear in response to the sudden movement. All thoughts of precaution had been tossed aside as the SeeD felt that it was time to defend himself against such vulgar accusations.

"I didn't do any of this!" Squall shouted, before even realizing what it was that he was doing. "Does the fact that you wish to point the finger at someone so quickly have you blinded to that possibility?! I was in Deling at the time of the murder; how could I have possibly had enough time to arrive in Esthar, carry out the act and then have enough time to travel back to the other side of the world before any of you caught on?"

Shaking his head slightly, Squall could no longer block the words from protruding from his mouth no matter how hard he wanted to at this point. "SeeD may have murdered their enemies; we may have blood stained on our hands for the rest of our lives because of this, but just because it's true doesn't automatically mean I'm so bloodthirsty that I would kill without a cause. I can't speak for anyone else, but I would _never_murder unless I had a reason and only if under contract to do so."

There was a moment where no one within the room spoke. The silence was so deafening that the slightest shuffle or movement could be detected by even the dullest of hearing. The occupants of the interrogation room were enveloped in such a shock that most wondered how sharp the knife would be to just cut through it. Squall himself was shocked at the outburst that had just taken place and, closing his eyes in realization, wished that he could turn back time and rebuild the resolution he had had before the interrogation had taken place.

"So you deny that you committed the crime?" the General barked out.

"I just said all that I'm going to say." Squall said, knowing fully well the damage that had just been done. "Anything else will wait until the representatives from Garden arrive."

In the amount of time it took him to blink, he found himself pinned up against the closest wall, the General's arm pushing against his throat and keeping him pinned where he was.

"You think you're so high and mighty just because of the meaning behind your name?" The General barked out. "You think that just because of who you are, and because of the connections you possess that you will get away with this just because you claim to have not committed the act. Well you're wrong. Everyone within Esthar pays for whatever crime is committed; regardless of his or her identity and your situation will not be any different."

Squall merely stared back at him, refusing to allow himself to lose his temper. "If you think that I'm going to hide behind your president just because he happens to be the reason I exist in the first place, then your mistaken. I own up to my own actions, but only when I have done something wrong. To be perfectly honest, my father could be anyone else for all I'd care, and that's all I have to say."

Squall didn't know what he had expected after the remark, and indeed he had been surprised when the General had raised his fist and punched him square in the face with enough force to practically unhinge his jaw. Just as he was recovering from the surprise attack, the General followed through with another right hook, this time dropping the teenager and watching as he fell onto the floor on both hands and knees. Squall wiped at his mouth and found that his lip had been split due to the punch, but could do nothing else as the General bent down and grabbed him by the front of his shirt before pushing him against the wall once again.

Since the action was brought on by the elder man's rage, the back of Squall's head bounced off the wall, stunning him in the process. Just as the General was about to throw another punch, however, Squall felt the weight from his chest lifted and slumped onto the ground as the room around him begun to spin.

Raising his right hand to hold up his head, he looked up to see the General being pushed back onto the opposite end of the table by a man dressed in the formal Estharian dress; a rather large white robe with a green stripe stretching from the middle of the uniform. A hat sat upon the hulking figure's head and since there was only one person Squall knew who could hold of height of seven feet, he immediately recognized the figure and didn't know whether to silently thank whoever it was who sent him down to foresee the interrogation, or to groan since he had a feeling he knew who had.

Ward stood in the center of the room, between Squall and the enraged General, glaring at the occupants of the room, silently daring them to do anything else. After a moment of silence, Ward turned on one of the soldiers and gestured at him before the soldier immediately saluted and ran off, probably in fear of the consequences should he resist.

The giant man then turned his gaze back on the General before gesturing once again. The Estharian man, who by no means reached Ward's impressive height, glowered at him briefly before quickly stalking outside of the room, slamming the door behind him in the process.

* * *

"They did _what_?!" Laguna shot up out of his seat.

The soldier who had been sent to report to the President shrunk back but managed to maintain his composure, despite the fact he was contacted the President through holographic projection near the questioning room. "Sir, the General and the Representative of the Estharian Cabinet authorized the treatment of the prisoner in your absence. They believed that it would be the only way to assure that the prisoner would respond to our questioning tactics, which were going unanswered –"

"You idiot; I told Squall not to say anything until his representatives showed up!" Laguna shouted, without a care as to how it appeared to his staff. "It's standard protocol and even if I hadn't said anything, he probably would have reacted the same anyway! Where's the Attorney General?"

"She left to convene with her superiors before the incident."

"Great…" Laguna said flatly. "This is just great. So she leaves and the General and Cabinet Member choose to gang up on him, is that it?"

Kiros, who also appeared livid by the news, stepped forward. "It's common knowledge that an arrestee needs to be accompanied by representation; in this case, Garden. What gave the General the idea to resort to such tactics? Did he resist within the room? Did he do anything to prompt such an action?"

"He was refusing to answer any questions that were being asked of him." The soldier answered.

"That doesn't answer his question." Laguna said in a low even tone. "Did Squall resort to physical resistance once he was alone with the General?"

The soldier hesitated for a moment, his posture turning into that of a child who had hit his little brother for stealing his favourite toy. Finally, he did answer. "No, sir."

Laguna's features stiffened further. "And did he physically force the General to resort to violence once the questioning," Laguna forced himself not to correct himself and call what had occurred an interrogation. "continued under these new tactics?"

"No sir." The soldier answered.

Laguna took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Never before had he ever been so angry in his entire life. "Then what, prey-tell, was the reason that opted this situation from occurring exactly? What made the General believe so heartedly that this was the only way to force the detainee to answer his questions?"

"The fact that the questioning wasn't going anywhere in the first place!" The soldier stated. "Sir, I was there, and he down right refused to even acknowledge that the General was even there! It was insulting."

"I don't care if it was gratifying!" Laguna shouted. "That doesn't excuse the fact that it was done!" Pressing the intercom button on his desk, he didn't even wait for the secretary on the opposite end of the door to respond. "Get Orally in here _now_! I've had enough with his insubordination!"

He received acknowledgement on the opposite end and immediately cut the communication short.

* * *

The room that he had been moved to after the failed interrogation was akin to that of an office. There were four desks within the room, all of which were stacked with papers, probably waiting to be filed, and each possessed at least a chair with thin cushioning on the back and seating parts of the objects and wheels on the bottom to provide convenience for the person sitting within, in case they needed to move from one side of their desk to the next.

Squall found himself seated in one of these chairs, his wrist having been attached to the handle of a locked drawer by another set of handcuffs. He didn't complain about the chair; in fact, he was rather surprised he actually received one, so heavy was the crime they believed he had committed.

Frowning slightly, he couldn't believe what he had done back in interrogation. Simple photographs should not have been enough to force him to respond that negatively, but whenever he thought about it, the gruesome images he had been forced to look upon blared into his mind; as if they were sitting in front of him at that moment. It felt like the ones who had died were haunting him; condemning him to their deaths when it was another who had killed them.

_But no matter how gruesome the photographs, I should have been able to keep my resolve._ Squall thought to himself bitterly. SeeD was trained to withstand such tactics from enemy forces (not that he saw Esthar as an enemy at that moment), but he had crumbled as soon as they had begun showing him the result the murderer had left in his wake; innocent people whose lives had become locked within time forever. They would never age, nor would they witness the events revolving around their friends and loved ones, as they would have wished.

Irritably slamming the side of his fist into the desk, Squall allowed himself to burry his head within the confines of his hands. Whoever was responsible had been bloodthirsty, and as far as his understanding went, SeeD Candidates who appeared bloodthirsty while taking the field exam were failed immediately. Seifer had been one of them, despite the obvious fact that he had, once again, broken the rules.

The impact with the desk hadn't hurt, which proved to Squall that his contact with the junctions he possessed had been re-established once he had left that room, but it didn't make him feel any better to know this. It would do him no good because he had no intention of escape.

Sensing someone nearby, Squall looked back up to see Ward returning, pausing to nod in acknowledgement to the two guards stationed outside before entering the room. In his left hand was an icepack, and Squall understood exactly what it was for. Brushing his thumb across his split lip, he mentally reminded himself that since they believed he was their murderer, and had become frustrated that he had not spoken a word (in defence of the murder or confessing to it).

Naturally, one would turn to violence; if not physically, then by mental depiction; it was simply the way the mind worked. Even the mildest tempered person succumbed to this result. Knowing that he was innocent and that they had resorted to such tactics had not changed his disposition around them, since he understood the reasons behind the actions. But he also knew that if he didn't get things sorted out very quickly, then there would be nothing he could do to stop the real terrorists.

Ward handed the teenager the icepack and Squall immediately set it upon his left cheek, one of the places the General had punched him. "Thanks…" he muttered, breaking the building silence within the room.

Ward nodded his acknowledgement before shifting his facial expression. Normally, he would need Kiros to interpret what he had been meaning to say, but Squall had viewed parts of his past through Laguna, and was able to understand some of the things the hulking figure wanted to say. Having had his vocal cords damaged during the raid in Centra so long ago, Ward had lost the ability to speak and had thus ended up forced to rely on his friends to communicate for him.

It was one of those times where Squall understood what Ward wanted to say, and in response to the unspoken question the teenager shook his head. "Worse has happened, Ward. Don't worry about it; I'm alright."

Of course his bruising hurt, but only slightly compared to everything he had been through during the Sorceress War. He had been struck near the heart with a spear formed completely out of ice when he had tried to assassinate Ultimecia in Deling; tortured due to electrical currents running through his body courtesy of his rival, beaten, battered, bruised and nearly lost within Time Compression.

Regardless of these facts, however, he was not alright, and it had nothing to do with the physical attack the General had instigated. Mentally, Squall was still only beginning to recover from the psychological warfare that went on once witnessing the results of the murders that had been committed. The idea that _anyone_ could commit such an act not only willingly but eagerly was disgusting to him. Murders may have happened, but people who enjoyed it were extremely revolting; had always been to him. It was an unfortunate fact that more people like the real murderer existed in the world, but it was a fact nonetheless.

More movement was sensed from the entrance of the office and both Squall and Ward turned their attention towards the door as one man entered. He was dressed completely in black excluding the white shirt underneath his uniform jacket. He was bald, possessing dark skin and sunglasses of which shielded his eyes from view. Attached to his ear was obviously a listening device, with a winding cord that stretched into his pocket. Squall figured that even the sunglasses the man wore also possessed some sort of tele-electronic device, since of course they were inside of the building and the lights weren't that bright.

The man didn't need to introduce himself; Squall had met him two months prior. James Logans, Chief of Presidential Security – a job that required him to protect the President wherever he went, be it out of the country or within the confines of the Residence. He was also in charge of the numerous staff underneath his status; making sure that all eyes were focused on protecting the perimeter from possible terrorist attacks and that included surveillance detail. Squall had no doubt in his mind that Logans had been present during the attacks, and from his impression of him the first time they'd met, this man took his job as seriously as Squall took his.

Like the first time they'd met, Logans didn't offer his hand to the SeeD, nor did Squall expect him to. However, Logans did nod in his direction in acknowledgement before speaking. "I apologize for General Orally's actions towards you during the questioning process. Nevertheless, this does not mean that we will treat you with any civility, given the circumstances."

"I didn't expect you to." Squall stated flatly.

Logans didn't respond; seemingly choosing to ignore the comment and merely adjusted the glasses on his face. "But to ensure your safety, we have requested that you wait within the confines of this room until the questioning commences once again, this time with guards barring everyone, save myself and Mr. Zabac, entrance under any circumstances. Of course, the President is also an exception to this order, but given what has happened in the last few hours, I doubt he'll be able to leave his desk."

Squall understood these protocols, but didn't bother to interrupt. "In the meantime, I will ask that you do not leave this room under any circumstances until the questioning is ready to continue or until I state otherwise."

Pulling his arm up from the top of the desk, Squall gestured towards the handcuffs that kept him tied down to the desk. "Not like I can leave anyway…"

"You still possess your junctions." Logans stated. "Mentioning that, I will have to ask that you relinquish your junctions into our custody until this whole matter is settled. It's for our assurance that you will not attempt to escape our custody."

Logans extended his hand out to the SeeD, and, despite any will to protest from Ward, Squall simply held his own hand out and closed his eyes in concentration, focussing on the foreign entities circling in his mind. A moment later, he opened his eyes, and turned his gaze to his upturned palm, three small orbs the size of marbles appearing in the very center, one closely resembling black, one white and one yellow. When Guardian Forces were not in use, they resided inside of these orbs, pulsing the thoughts and minds they possessed with no danger to those surrounding them.

Once the SeeD handed the GF's to the him, Logans immediately pulled out a small leather bag and placed the orbs within, sealing it up and placing it inside of his left breath pocket. "Once the questioning process is completed, we will return these to your possession if your innocence is assured."

Logans then turned his back to the pair and exited the room, leaving the two men who had accompanied him back to watch them. Squall could sense Ward's disapproving glare, but ignored it, opting to stare up at the clock on the far side of the wall to his left.

* * *

**5:48:12**

* * *

Once Shu had returned, Jared had reconvened the meeting, wanting to know exactly what had happened. When it was made evident that General Orally would be facing punishment for his actions, Jared allowed his face to fall into his hands. This was something none of them needed; a General who was willing to break to law to obtain a conviction. He wouldn't have been surprised if the evidence was going to be looked over a forth time for this.

Soon after Shu's report, the entire room had erupted into chaos; the cabinet members being unable to agree on anything more than a crime had been committed and the suspect was currently being detained. Though they had come up with a point that Jared couldn't help but agree with; something seemed wrong about the set of events. Why commit a crime and then surrender for it hours later?

"I say that it's due to the fact that he doesn't care." One of the cabinet members shouted in outrage. He had red hair that was tied back into a ponytail and, according to where he sat, represented the Southern East sector of the city. "Everyone recalls how apathetic he was towards the victory of the Sorceress war, and further information obtained through the preparation of the United Confederation clearly proves that he is withdrawn and apathetic just about all of the time! That is proof in itself that he has the signs of being a sociopath."

"Maybe it's because he believes he has nothing to hide." Another representative, this one from the western section of the capital, stated. She had blonde hair and brown eyes behind white rimmed spectacles. "Maybe he believes that he didn't do it. Maybe he had a momentary lapse of insanity, committed the crime, and then returned to Deling City, and once returning to Galbadia, had no conscious knowledge of what he had done."

"That's a load of bull!" Mark Hummel argued. "It was too calculated to have been just a whim. It was definitely pre-meditated. Your explanation doesn't make sense at all. I agree with what Caitiffs says! He's a sociopath! He's demonstrated sociopathic tendencies; such as self seclusion and reluctance to participate within a group info-structure unless it's towards his own benefit!"

"He must have been planning this for a while!" said the south-western representative, a middle-aged man with greyish white hair. "But why these people? And were there more people he intended to kill?"

The room was suddenly filled with disarray; people shouting suggestion after suggestion and shutting down other people's theories

"Please, that's enough everyone." Jared interrupted, raising his voice and within the span of a few moments, the noise level decreased until all were silent. "This news has got us all in jumbles, but the fact of the matter is we need to look at this calmly. If he were, in fact, a sociopath, do you believe that he would have been allowed to become a SeeD at Garden?"

"Sociopaths know how to act the way people expect them to." A middle aged woman representing the north-western sector of the city spoke. "They can easily blend into society and be undetected for years. Garden would never have known he was a sociopath unless he had wanted them to."

"But aren't there tests that help to by-pass this?" A man from the north - eastern sector suggested. "Wouldn't this have helped to weed out the troublesome students?"

"He was already acknowledged as a troubled student." Mark stated. "Many of the Garden Faculty Members stated so in their numerous reports of him."

"But I still don't believe he's a sociopath." The blonde woman argued. "If he were, then wouldn't he have stayed on as the Garden Commander? He would have wanted the power – the control – to be able to do as he pleased. The commander, even though they do reside within the Garden, is able to exemplify him or herself from the normal rules and regulations his or her subordinates must comply to."

"Bah!" The south-western representative waved off. "Christine, knock off that psychobabble! He probably stepped down so that once he conducted such an act, people like you who look out for such tendencies wouldn't think to suspect him for what he really is."

The woman, Christine, pushed her glasses forward. "Just because I'm a psychiatrist does not mean that what I have to say is psychobabble and I am offended by your statement, Harold. But the fact of the matter is that I don't believe him to be a sociopath. True, he displays a lot of the symptoms, but not the more important ones. If anything, I believe that he has a personality disorder, brought on by some sort of traumatic occurrence in his life."

"Then you agree that he shouldn't be a part of SeeD." Carol said. "That's all my point was; that someone who is so obviously troubled should not have been trained to be able to conduct missions that could possibly resort to the death of others. If anything, this whole situation is clearly Garden's responsibility."

"And besides;" the south-eastern representative added. "If he isn't a sociopath, and merely has a personality disorder, what exactly would you say drove him to commit such a crime."

Christine took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Honestly, I have no idea. Most people have no idea why people who are so troubled do the things they do. It's sort of like an escape for them. In some cases, they believe that a higher being told them to commit such acts."

"So you're saying that he thinks Hyne told him to come here and kill those people?" Mark asked.

"That's not what I'm saying at all. It's just an example." Christine defended. Taking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly before speaking again. "And I'm not excusing the behaviour. But I believe that the best thing to do at this current time would be to figure out the reason why he would commit such an act before doing anything else."

"Christine, now is not the time to be patient with him!" Harold shouted. "Now is the time to lock him up and throw away the key! He did the crime, so he should do the time for it too!"

Once again, the room sprang to life; some people arguing the validity of Christine's suggestion, while others overruled it in favour of Harold's solution. Once again, the sound of something slamming atop something sounded over the loud voices and Jared took center stage once more.

"Ladies, Gentlemen…I'd say that that was enough. We're not children, so we shouldn't be bickering about like this. There is a way to resolve this dispute and appease each side at the same time, you know."

The room fell silent as the cabinet members all began to mull over the director's words. It was broken once the director began to speak again. "One side says he committed the crime intentionally, another states that it occurred while his judgement was elsewhere. Finally, the man accused of the crime argues vehemently that he did not commit the crime under any circumstance, or so we'll assume… So what would prove without a doubt which side was correct?"

Christine turned her gaze upon the director. "Are you suggesting that we have a trial?"

Jared nodded. "Exactly."

In response, Christine shook her head. "I doubt the President would sanction it. He wouldn't want any media coverage whatsoever, and almost everyone in Esthar knows what happened this morning already, after all."

"Yes, but they have no idea that the Estharians brought the suspect here." The southern representative jumped in. "It'd be easy to hide that fact from the public…at least for the time being."

"But wouldn't we have to involve more people, such as lawyers and a judge?" the western representative argued. "What if someone leaks this information to the press? The President will not be happy with that."

"He's not happy about this whole thing in general." The north-eastern representative snorted. "After all, his son's the one who'll be standing trial."

"Alright, I understand everyone's point of view on this, but do we really have a choice in the matter?" Jared asked. "Besides, we can't have him prosecuted without a trail. It's against Estharian Law. Are we no better than the dictators of our past?"

Everyone at the table shuddered in response to the Director's question. Each of them remembered the time where Adel was leading the country with her communist beliefs. Those who were guilty of crimes committed under the order of the Sorceress were rewarded with pensions while those who were innocent were forced to confess, using torture and mind altering tactics in Adel's favour. Most were killed before they could recant their fevered confessions, and in the cases that they survived, the damage had already been done. Those under her rule were so afraid that they agreed with the accusations as their way of protecting themselves.

"Even if we were to be apposed to the idea of a trial, it would still happen, regardless of what we think." Jared explained. "We don't have the power to suppress his rights, even though he isn't native to Esthar. He allegedly committed a crime in our country, and thus must be tried according to our laws."

"Even still, a trial would be pointless." The eastern representative, a dark skinned man, argued. "Everyone in Esthar, save a few people, has been convinced he's the murderer. We would never find an impartial jury to foresee the testimony. Fisherman's Horizon is also still tied to Esthar, despite the fact that they emancipated themselves from us, so we can't hold it there."

"How do we know that he'll want a trial by jury?" the eastern representative asked.

"It's common knowledge that it's easier to convince a group of twelve unbiased people of your innocence," the north-western representative explained. "than it is to convince a long-time judge. And even if he does request a trial by judge, we still wouldn't be able to hold it in Esthar."

"That means Balamb is out of the question as well." Harold pointed out. "He'd walk if it was held there."

"Galbadia is also not acceptable." Christine said. "He has far too many connections there. For one, he's romantically involved with the Galbadian President's daughter. Another point is regarding the invasion of the Galbadian Capital that took place earlier this morning. We've burned our bridge in regards to their co-operation with that action."

"And any location that houses a Garden is also intolerable." Jared pointed out. "So our only choices reside within Timber and Dollet. Timber is still in the process of deciding its own government; the elections of their governor will take place sometime next week. That leaves Dollet as the only possible location."

"So we hold it in Dollet then." Harold stated. "Then someone needs to contact the Arch Duke and alert him on the situation and our need of the town's co-operation."

"But there's still the subject of when the trial will be held." The eastern representative added. "Do we push the trial ahead or wait for the other cases to be sorted through?"

"Of course we push it ahead!" The north-western representative stated. "What kind of an idiot wouldn't push ahead something as serious as this?!"

"But we have to ensure that the prosecution and defence have enough time to properly gather the evidence, interview, and prepare themselves for this trial." Jared explained. "This trial is going to be watched by everyone in the world, and if one thing is done wrong, we could lose by default. I'm not saying that he is guilty, but I'm not saying he is innocent either. I vote that the trial takes place in Dollet after a month's time. I'd say that is adequate for preparation. All in favour of this suggestion say 'Aye'."

Everyone within the room said the before mentioned word nearly in the exact same time frame. Some people were faster than others when they spoke.

"Alright then. All that is left to do is decide the time the trail takes place. We can discuss the issue with the Dollet officials when we speak to them about the proceedings."

"May I make a request before the preparations have been completed?" Christine asked. "I would like the interview the suspect; get a feel for him if you will."

"I object!" Harold shouted. "That would lead to a biased opinion! And besides, she's a representative; we have to remain neutral at all costs!"

"What exactly is so biased about it, Harold?" Christine argued. "As of recently, we've heard the opinion of the Estharian General, as well as the opinion of the reporters on the news who are pinning the crime on him." Turning back to Jared, she continued. "And I would not be speaking to him as a representative; but as my profession. I would like to see all sides of the story before I pass judgement, and possibly help this case out."

Jared seemed to mull the request over for a moment before speaking. "You do realize, Christine, that if you proceed with this action, you will also be asked to testify in court."

"I completely understand and respect the decision." Christine said, nodding.

"Then I don't see why she can't interview him." Jared said before turning to Harold. "Unless, of course, you can find another suitable argument as to why she shouldn't be allowed."

Harold frowned deeply, but shook his head in response.

"Then it's settled. I want at least three of the Estharian soldiers there in case he tries to escape. He'll be in restrained custody until the trial any way."

Christine nodded in agreement. "I don't see why not, as long as they don't jeopardize my visit."

"Then I'd say this meeting is adjourned." The director said. "We'll hold another meeting in regards to Christine's report of her findings."

The room immediately began to clear as the occupants began to head back to their respective offices. Harold was the last to leave the room, pulling out his cell phone before dialling a number. "We have another problem…" he said before the door closed behind him.

* * *

The Ragnarok touched down on the continent of Balamb, just a quick two minute walk away from the Garden residing east of the town. Three of the occupants remained within the former Estharian airship while the others returned to the Garden in order to gather the remaining members that would form the representative team before heading out to Esthar. Rinoa, Irvine and Cid had all joined Zell and Quistis as they made their way back towards the airship, where Selphie, Nida and Edea all awaited them.

That had been approximately ten minutes prior. Currently, they were all sitting within the confines of the cockpit, where Selphie was piloting the ship. Nida was co-piloting. It was a known fact that Selphie had a soft spot when it came to the dragon like machine, and had even taken to calling it her baby.

But now, as they headed towards the massive city located within the heart of the country of Esthar, their thoughts had turned towards something far more serious. Irvine wasn't even attempting to flirt with any of the girls, nor was Selphie acting in her normally energetic nature. Zell was even resisting the urge to shadow-box in the corner of the room. Edea sat in one of the chairs at the back of the room, her hands folded into each other as she stared out at the ocean passing beneath them while Cid sat close by, keeping an eye on his wife of forty years. Quistis would occasionally keep tabs on both of them, but kept her mind solely on its task.

"What're we going to do?" Selphie asked from behind the controls, breaking the tense silence that had fallen upon them. "What if the Estharians won't take Zell or my testimony seriously? They'll think we were lying without some form of proof."

"But that's really all we have to work with." Zell said. "They probably will think we're lying, but they can't deny our testimony, can they?"

"Wasn't that my question?"

Just as Cid was about to say something, the red light at the front of the ship blinked on, signifying that someone was trying to reach the ships occupants. As soon as a visual link was provided, everyone, excluding the pilot of course, was fixed with President Caraway's visage staring back at them. "How much longer will it take your team to arrive in Esthar?" Caraway asked, skipping the pleasantries.

"Within the next thirty minutes at most." Cid answered. "It shouldn't be any longer than that."

"I think I might be able to help, despite the chaos ensuing over on this end." Caraway said and immediately all eyes fell upon him. Selphie had to take a moment to recall that she was the one piloting before setting the aircraft to autopilot and sitting forward.

"Just a moment ago, I received a message from Esthar subpoenaing the security tapes that recorded anything to do with the Galbadian Presidential Residence from 0300 to 1400 hours Galbadian time, as evidence, probably pertaining to Operative Leonhart's whereabouts during that time."

"But they would only need to subpoena that kind of information if they were holding a trial." Quistis pointed out.

"Which answers your question, Sefie." Irvine said turning his attention towards the brunette, who nodded in response.

"So that mean's Squall's got a fighting chance!" Zell shouted. "Once they take a look at those tapes, then he's gonna be cleared of those bogus allegations and then we can start looking for the real killer."

"Not only that, but we can also begin figuring out why the crime was committed in the first place." Cid agreed.

Rinoa clapped her hands together and nodded to herself in affirmation. Quistis couldn't blame her in the slightest; everyone was happy that something was finally going in their direction since this whole thing had begun. Checking her watch, Quistis took notice that it was after midnight in Balamb. She immediately pressed a button located on the side of her watch and it immediately changed to read Estharian time; nearly six in the morning.

The former instructor had spent many long hours working in her dorm, mostly marking term papers when she had been in possession of her instructor's license, so she was used to running on very little sleep. Looking around her, she could tell the others were far too alert to take a nap of some sort (as was she, mind you), since their friend was in trouble. Folding her arms across her chest, she immediately brought herself out of her thoughts and began to listen to the rest of the conversation.

"So when we get there, do you think we'll be able to see him?" Rinoa asked tentatively.

"Hopefully." Irvine said. "Don't think they'd be cruel enough to deny him the right to meet up with his girlfriend, let alone the rest of us."

"Besides," Selphie said, once she had re-established control of the ship. "Sir Laguna would probably let us see him."

"You must all keep in mind that Laguna is still the President of Esthar," Edea stated grimly. "which means he must act according to protocol, even if it is his son standing trial. It does not seem fair, but it is life, and we must not judge him poorly just because he is following procedure."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the ship once again fell into an uncomfortable silence.

* * *

**_6:00:00 _**


	5. Hour 5

Chapter Posted: **02/10/2007**

* * *

**The following takes place between 6am and 7am.  
Events occur in real time.**

* * *

The sun sat up in the sky, having not yet risen to its peak, and as a result illuminated the office where a man stood in front of his desk, seemingly staring out into space. This man was tired; having not had any sleep the previous night due to the current circumstances, and was slowly losing whatever patience he had remaining.

The man standing opposite of him was positioned in a respectable salute; dressed in the standard Estharian uniform rather than his normal form of military dress reserved for out of combat military affairs. He had military cut dark grey hair and a greying beard forming beneath his lower lip, and stern brown eyes. His features told of his age and experience, and yet he didn't appear as old as to be nearing retirement any time soon. If anything, he looked to be around the age of sixty or less.

Laguna took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm his boiling temper. It had been a long night, and it looked as though it was going to be an even longer day. No amount of coffee was going to change that fact.

The General dropped the salute and waited at attention for his superior to speak to him. Laguna went to open his mouth in order to say something, but closed it as he dismissed the phrasing, beginning to mull over what it was he wanted to say before opening his mouth once again, forming a cycle. Finally after figuring out just what he wanted to say, he nodded to himself before clearing his throat and speaking.

"So…" Laguna started. "You recruited a squad of your men, traveled to the capital of Galbadia, without any form of permission from the Galbadian President and thus nearly eliciting a war in response to those actions, kidnapped a man on assignment and nearly blowing his own people's cover in the process, brought him back here for questioning despite not having had any grounds or orders towards that response, and when he refused to comply to your questioning methods, even though it was under my own advisement, you attacked him."

Laguna could sense his temper getting the better of him, so he took a moment to breathe deeply before speaking once more. "Did Adel suddenly take control of Esthar while I was sorting through documentation?"

Before the General could speak in his defence, Laguna cut him off. "This blatant disregard towards my orders, as well as the safety of the civilians within this city is something that I cannot condone. And before you say anything, you did endanger the lives of the people you have been sworn to protect due to your actions. You're lucky that the Galbadians haven't decided to retaliate as of now. I understand how the situation looks, but we do not treat even our worst criminals the way he was treated. Not only have you ignored my orders within the last eight hours several times, but now you have built a case against yourself, as well as our governmental officials who have become involved. If he chooses to press charges, then this will more than likely topple our government."

Taking a seat behind his desk, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you have to say in your defence?"

"Sir, with all due respect," The general said at last. "As soon as we received word of who was sighted on our grounds moments before the murders took place, your whole domineer changed. You went from 'we have to find and persecute the killer' to 'we have to wait until the evidence comes back' in the time that it takes to flip a light switch. I believed that your personal involvement in this case would jeopardize the way things proceeded, despite your best intentions, which is why I took a squad out to apprehend the suspect myself. I know it was a breach of protocol, but in all honesty, I believed that it was the only choice we had at that time."

Laguna stayed silent as the General continued with his explanation. "At the time of the questioning process, I had not been made aware that the suspect's parental figure had given him legal advice to not speak unless his representatives of Garden arrived. All I believed was that he was stalling for time, which was why I lost my temper. In any other situation, I would not have lost my judgement."

"First of all," Laguna interjected, as soon as the general was finished speaking. "I want this killer found and prosecuted to the highest form of the law. That does not, however, change the fact that there are procedures in place to protect those that we suspect. It is innocence until proven guilt, Orally, not the opposite."

"Understood sir," The General nodded.

"I want the person who did this found, and tried. But I also want the evidence found and looked at before we do anything. That is what is called Democracy. Even if that evidence comes back, and it _is_ my son who is responsible for committing the crime, then at least the procedures had been followed with due diligence, and there is no room for error."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Laguna continued. "Moving along, the person who is being held is a minor, by our laws, and a minor's rights state that he or she must be questioned with the Parent or Guardian present. Anyone within our country is to be questioned with an attorney present, if they so wish. Because both of these regulations were disregarded, any and all information you received during your 'interrogation', has been disregarded as well."

Leaning forward in his seat, Laguna clasped his hands together. "I have a question for you, Orally. The killer entered the residence and committed the crime between two and three in the morning. Your men located the suspect in Deling City at around five in the morning, Esthar time, and apprehended him around an hour later, and the flight to Esthar took another hour. No Esthar airships left for Galbadia in-between that time, save your ships, so the suspect's only mode of transportation out of Esthar and into Deling would have been the Horizon Bridge, which takes approximately seven hours to reach Timber, and another seven to reach Deling from there. Technically, it would have been very unlikely that he could have committed the crime and escaped to Deling before your men could have gathered together and arrived. I'm not saying it is impossible; only unlikely. It's just a thought, however.

"Furthermore, upon waiting for your appearance to my office," Laguna continued. "I managed to read through your file; not all of it, just the more important aspects of it. The records indicate that you are involved in a very similar case. Now, why didn't you mention this before?"

Orally closed his eyes for a moment before taking in a deep breath and opening them. "Sir, the case you are speaking of took place a while ago; back when Adel was in power."

"I'm aware of the circumstances. What I would like to know is what happened. Off the record."

A moment of silence passed between both men before Orally chose to speak. "A boy, roughly around the age of eight, was found in the parking lot of a building just before opening hours. When officials and paramedics arrived at the scene, they declared that he had been killed the previous night. Just as it was being investigated, it was suddenly placed in a pile of files never to be looked through again, all because the suspect was a high standing official, who worked closely to the dictator of that time, Adel.

"'The evidence was unfounded,' they had explained. 'It had been contaminated during the initial finding, and thus everything would have to come into question once again.' Only, it never did. The case was left unsolved, and person who committed the act was allowed to get away, all because of his connections."

Laguna nodded, more to himself than to anything else. "I completely understand your position and your concerns on the matter. All I want is for this case to be solved, and for whoever committed the crime to atone for his actions. But that still doesn't explain your behaviour regarding the circumstances."

The General nodded once again, and averted his gaze to the floor, taking in a shuttering breath before raising them to meet Laguna's. "The boy that was found…he was my son. And knowing that the man who killed him was going to walk away a free man because of who he was tore me up inside. Knowing that something like that would happen again was just a reminder of what happened. I didn't want anything like that to happen again."

"I'm sorry for your loss…" Laguna said awkwardly after a moment. "But I can assure you that a situation like that won't happen again. If my son is, in fact, guilty, I won't stand in the way of the prosecution. I just want to have all the facts before anything is decided. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, both off and on the record, it seems that your judgement has been swayed on the matter, and I have no choice but to suspend you of all activities involving this case until further notice."

Orally nodded. "I understand sir."

"Then you are dismissed." Laguna nodded back. "I hope we get to meet once again under better circumstances."

"You would not be alone in that, sir." The General of Esthar saluted the man who stood before him before returning his arm to his side and turning towards the door, leaving not a military man, but a civilian.

* * *

Harold Schipner returned to his office, having already disconnected a phone call on his cellular, and slumped back into his desk. He had alerted his contacts to the dire circumstances of the situation and had been assured that things would be all right, but he was still unnerved by the entire thing. The murders had been done outside of the plan; since they were planning on remaining secret for the time being, until they had received the desired information they would need to know about their target. Sure, they knew substantially enough already, but that didn't make him feel any more secure.

Still, orders were orders. He had been selected for his job for a reason, and it was a job he intended to get done. Sitting at his desk, he mulled over the possibility that Leonhart actually went to trial and the tapes that would, undoubtedly, be sent from Galbadia for the trial, would be used to clear his name. The entire addition to the plan would be ruined and would probably lead back to his superiors and then back to himself. He had made a promise that he would oversee the plan went on as originally planned, and he was going to live up to his word.

He knew that the director had someone in mind to play the role of prosecutor and figured that getting the lawyer axed was out of the question. But his eyes lit up as soon as he caught an idea that had been preparing to leave the confines of his mind. Grabbing hold of it and keeping his grip on it as tightly as he could, he grabbed his cellular and began to dial another number, the strange little device having been placed on it once more. He waited a moment before someone on the opposite end picked up. "It's me…I just thought of a way to get rid of the problem…"

* * *

**6:09:45**

* * *

He had an odd feeling that things were about to go from bad to worse.

The area just outside of the room he had been stationed in was swarming with people, when just under an hour ago, there had only been security detail. It wasn't very difficult to deduce that the sudden activity level had something to do with him.

Checking the clock once again, the SeeD frowned. After the chief of security had left the room with his junctions, Squall and Ward had been left relatively alone by the rest of the staff, until a soldier had come down and requested the whereabouts of the Estharian General. Ward had left the room, but Squall didn't need to be told to know that his suspicions had been correct; the General of the Estharian army had acted without the authority of the President and now he was being summoned by him to receive punishment.

Squall wasn't bitter. In fact, had he been in the General's position, he might have considered doing the same thing, whatever the consequences might have been. He understood the General's position on the matter; that the son of the president had supposedly committed a crime and that he must be made to pay despite his identity. Orally had made himself perfectly clear on that front.

He had never wanted the added attention. All he had ever strove to be in life was a SeeD; it didn't matter to him what rank he achieved, just as long as he completed his missions thoroughly and effectively. The next thing he knew, he was being handed control of the Garden's by a man he had respected, and then recruited to lead the charge against the Sorceress from the future. Ever since, no one had been willing to leave him out of the spotlight, and it was infuriating.

The fact that he was the son of the man who ended the previous war didn't help matters.

As usual, Hyne managed to spit in his face regarding what he wanted done with his life.

Resting his head atop of his folded arms on the table before him, he turned his head to the position of the clock, always keeping an eye on the time. He wondered how long it would be until the questioning process got back on track, and how long it would take for Garden's representatives to arrive. Both questions went hand in hand, considering he knew the Estharian's wouldn't allow for another incident to take place as it did over an hour ago.

It was now after 0600 Esthar time, which would mean that it was roughly after 1600 in Galbadia, and 2200 in Balamb. He had been up since six in the morning, Galbadia time, and would probably still be awake into the later hours of the night, that is unless something favourable happens before then.

Given his track record on luck, Squall wasn't holding his breath.

He wondered how Selphie and Zell were holding up. Between his two comrades, Selphie had been the only one on the other line with him, and so she would have sent the message to his other comrade. He hoped they weren't too mad at him. It was the only way he could think of that would avert a war from breaking out between Esthar and Garden, but as Kiros had so graciously informed him, Galbadia wasn't too thrilled over being invaded. He hoped President Caraway would be able to keep this mess from spreading further if only until he was cleared.

Raising his head, and running both hands through his messy hair, he mentally berated himself. No matter how much he tried not to, he always seemed to wonder how he looked in other peoples eyes, as if it would make a difference what they thought about him. For as long as he could remember, he hated doing it, but he could never break himself of such a habit for too long. And when it came down to it, worrying caused him to think, and he never did like thinking about something too much. Overanalyzing could be considered a strength, but in most situations it usually turned out for the worse.

The Garden war was a great example; Squall having believed the Galbadians would infiltrate the Garden and as a result, had focused the majority of his men into defensive positions, leaving the small number of attacking SeeDs to fend for themselves. This had been the reason behind so many fatalities during the battle, and Squall would never forgive himself for it.

_And here I am, thinking again…_ Squall thought to himself as he shook his head.

Before he could mentally berate himself any further, he heard the door to the room open and close. Turning around to see who it was, he noted Logans, still dressed in black and wearing the sunglasses over his eyes, was standing in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest. He also noted that he was flanked by three Estharian soldiers.

Eyeing them wearily, Squall rose to his feet, but couldn't get any further than that due to the handcuffs keeping him attached to the desk. Whatever they were planning to do this time, he wasn't going to be able to stop them effectively. However, no one moved for a moment, until Logans turned to one of his men and nodded. The soldier moved from behind him, heading towards the youth. Squall kept an eye on him, even as Logans began to speak.

"Squall Leonhart, under the authority of the Estharian Government, you are hereby under arrest."

"I thought we'd already gone through this." Squall stated as the soldier freed him from the desk and forced his left arm behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent." Logans continued as the soldier pinned Squall's right arm behind his back. "Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law."

"Court?" Squall questioned, despite his better judgement. "You mean a trial? Already?"

"You have a right to an attorney, and if you do not have one, one will be provided to you by the people's courts."

"Answer my damn questions." Squall stated flatly, the handcuffs snapping into place behind him.

Logans sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. "The Estharian Cabinet has decided that in a month's time you will stand trial under the charge of terrorism and further charged under five counts of murder in the first degree."

"How can there be a trial if you don't have a statement?"

"The Cabinet thought it would be better if the questioning process was skipped to prevent further incident." Logans explained. "There will be someone to see you, however, to obtain your statement."

"Was the President involved with _this_ decision?" Squall asked. "Or does he even know?"

"No, your father does not know at this time." Logans stated.

"You went around the President with something this important?"

"The cabinet members thought it would be better if he was not involved with the decision process. He will be informed on the change of the situation, however. He may be the President, but he also has a personal role in this predicament and in such cases, the Cabinet has the power to overrule Presidential decisions."

Squall frowned. "So you give him power, but not absolute power."

"Exactly," Logans nodded. "And I would advise against resisting arrest at this point in time. For your own safety, you will be placed in a holding cell until the final preparations for the trial have taken place, at which point you will be transferred to Dollet for the remainder of the wait."

_That's right…_ Squall thought to himself. _Esthar is too biased, so they wouldn't be able to hold a trial here. And they certainly wouldn't hold it in Balamb. Galbadia is out of the question since Esthar invaded it already and Timber's only just beginning to build their own government. It would _have _to be held in Dollet._

"I also must warn you that anything you do between this point and the time of the trial will be watched closely by us and in retrospect, the Dollet authorities as well. If you resist against this arrest, it will look poorly on you in a court of law."

"In other words, if I want to prove my innocence, I have no choice _but_ to cooperate." Squall confirmed and Logans nodded. "Fine. I won't resist."

Logans nodded in response and one of the soldiers still stationed behind him opened the only exit to the room.

* * *

Immediately upon seeing the sky scrapers that symbolized Esthar City ahead, Ragnarok had achieved communication with the Airstation, letting the officials know that they were nearly there and to alert the President of their arrival.

Currently, the former flagship of the technologically advanced civilization had finished its docking preparations, and had fully executed its return to its native soil. During the Ultimecia War, SeeD had discovered the abandoned ship in space, and upon using it to return to the planet, the Estharians had confirmed that the ship was free for the taking; having been twenty years out of date. Garden had graciously accepted it as an asset to use on the little missions they would have before their career change was in effect.

The occupants of the ship, save for Nida who was staying behind in order to make sure Ragnarok was ready upon its occupants need to leave the city under any circumstances, were being escorted towards the Presidential Residence. Upon entering the building, the entire group could sense the difference in the atmosphere; something had happened that they were unaware of and they wanted to know just what it was. Finally, they managed to dissuade themselves of the working members of the city and were being escorted to the Presidential office, a place the five teenagers had been when they were briefed on the mission to defeat Ultimecia.

Upon reaching the office, the escort excused himself from the group, and entered the room, possibly informing the President of his guests. Cid and Edea had both left the group behind in order to speak to the President in private, and had assured them that everything would turn out as it should.

Still, even as they had left the teenagers behind, they still had their doubts, and no one had budged from their places since the Headmaster and former Sorceress had entered the office.

The escort who had led them to the office initially had left in order to take care of some personal business, but Quistis could see him rounding the corner towards them. Zell and Selphie rose from their sitting positions on the floor, but Rinoa stayed seated against the wall. Irvine was standing beside Selphie, his arms folded across his chest and his right leg resting against the wall.

As soon as he took in the sight of five teenagers crowding the hallway, the escort gestured with his hands for them to move as he spoke. "You're blocking the way for soldiers and other officials who need to speak with the President. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to move. But, if there is anything more I can do for you, I would be more than happy to comply."

"We'd like to see Squall." Quistis stated almost immediately, and the smile on the escort's face fell.

"I'm sorry, but due to the circumstances, I don't believe that the officials will allow you to visit with the prisoner."

"Prisoner?!" Zell snapped even as Selphie protested. "He came here willingly, how does that make him a prisoner?"

"He is still being detained under the charge of murder," the escort explained. "So I'm afraid that it is impossible for him to be seen at this point of time."

"But what about prisoner visitation?" Selphie asked. "I mean, don't you normally give people the right to visit with their family and friends when they're in custody?"

"Due to an incident which occurred a little while ago, I would say that it is within the detainee's best interest to not receive any visitors at this point."

"Incident?" Rinoa exclaimed, finally rising to her feet. "_What_ incident?"

"I am not at liberty to tell you."

"I don't care if you're at liberty to dance around and sing the national anthem! I want to know what happened." Rinoa shot back.

Everyone save Zell nodded back in agreement, who just scratched the back of his head in thought. "Esthar has a national anthem?"

Selphie rolled her eyes. "It is a nation, isn't it?" She muttered something under her breath, but no one caught it as they stared at the escort, waiting for their answer.

Before the escort could say anything in response, however, an Estharian soldier ran towards the group, trying to push past them to get to the Presidential office. Upon failing to do so, he sighed in exasperation. "This is a fire hazard. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to move. I have to speak to the President immediately."

"What's going on?" Selphie asked.

Before the man could answer, Quistis fixed him with a glare. "Don't you dare tell us that you're not at liberty to discuss it; we're representatives of Balamb Garden, and thus we have a right to know." Her glare was not only directed towards the poor soldier, but towards the escort as well.

The soldier sighed in exasperation once again before standing at attention, as if delivering a report. "Because of the preparations for the upcoming trial…"

"So there _are _trail preparations…" Selphie mused, but went ignored.

"The Prisoner has been moved to a holding cell until the preparations have been completed." The soldier finished, as if he had not been interrupted at all.

"Who authorized this?" Quistis asked. "If you're delivering this message to the President, then that means he didn't make this decision."

"You're right, ma'am." The soldier nodded. "It was the Cabinet's decision. They felt it best to act without the President's impute, given the circumstance."

"Given the circumstance…" Rinoa muttered. "That's all I'm hearing, and I'm getting sick of it. I want to see Squall, and I want to see him now!"

"I'm afraid that's just not possible." The soldier argued. "He's being moved as we speak, since the questioning process didn't go so well…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute…" Irvine interjected, who had, up until that point, remained silent. "What do you mean 'questioning'? That was supposed to wait until we arrived, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir." The soldier agreed. "But since the General and the Cabinet wanted to receive the answers they needed, they proceeded anyway. During the questioning, the General lost his temper and attacked the prisoner."

"Is he okay?" Rinoa asked, anger being replaced with concern.

"I'm more concerned with the possibility that Squall fought back." Quistis stated.

"Yes, he's alright. All the prisoner received in the scuffle was a split lip." The soldier answered. "As for the second concern, no he didn't fight back. Either he didn't want to, or he didn't have a chance since one of the Presidential Aids stepped in and broke it up.

"After that, visitation rights were suspended and only the security detail or the President had access to seeing him. Then the decision to set up plans for the trial came up and we were forced to place him in a holding cell until the preparations are complete."

"Sir Laguna's gonna be furious." Selphie muttered. "What do you think he'll do when he finds out?"

"Blow his top, I'm thinking." Zell shrugged. "His government's making decisions without him; I'd be pretty pissed too."

"Still, he has to contain a presence of composure." Quistis pointed out. "He's in a political position; he can't allow his emotions to get the better of him. He needs to keep a level head.

"Laguna needs to be told about this." Irvine said. "Whether or not he's gonna like it doesn't matter. It's either he finds out now and tries to figure out some way to get around the decision, or he finds out later and can't do a damned thing about it."

"He can't do anything anyway." Quistis argued. "If he does, then they'll accuse him of putting his parental values over his better judgement and he may end up being sworn out of office. We can't afford that now; especially not with the situation in Galbadia. But Irvine is right; he does have to know. But I think it would be better if it came from one of us rather than someone that could report it to another official in the long run."

It was then that the Headmaster emerged from the Presidential office, the door sliding shut behind him. He was frowning slightly; as though he had been delivered bad news and Quistis figured that Laguna had just been made aware of the current situation.

Her suspicions were confirmed when the Headmaster nodded at the soldier. "You don't have to worry about your report; security just let us know of the situation."

The soldier hesitated slightly, almost as if confused by the revelation, nonetheless he saluted hastily before turning around and making his leave. He called over his shoulder about their crowding the Presidential office, but no one paid him any attention.

"What happened?" Quistis asked.

"I take it you've all been informed already." Cid stated more than asked. "In any rate, an incident did take place. The General has been suspended, and I doubt the Cabinet is going to get off without punishment either. Because of the suddenness of his incarceration, President Loire is working on overriding the decision and having Squall released from custody as quickly as possible."

"Tch…" Zell frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "Man, this sucks. I mean, they're picking on Squall and there's nothing we can do about it. Hell, the only reason why they've got him where they want him is 'coz he's lettin' them push him around."

"But if he resisted, Esthar would be placing pressure on Laguna to start a war against SeeD." Quistis said. "Because he's the major suspect of a rather large criminal offence, they would believe us to be harbouring a fugitive."

"Quistis is right." Cid said. "Squall wouldn't want a war to start because he ran from them. If anything, he would rather confront the situation and figure out what is going on himself. Unfortunately he won't be very effective in doing so behind bars. So for the meantime, we have to do what we can to figure out who is the real murderer and how he has been able to set Squall up so effortlessly."

"Hey, guys…" Irvine said. "I hate to interrupt, but," Gesturing around himself he turned back towards the others. "has anyone seen Rinoa?"

Quistis frowned even as everyone looked around for the raven-haired teenager. When they couldn't find her in the vicinity of the office, the blonde's frown deepened.

* * *

He watched the production unfold before his eyes and grinned in feral anticipation. So far, his plot was folding in rather nicely. The country heads were distracted with the proceedings of the murders and, more importantly, Esthar's government was falling apart.

True, the murders that took place earlier were not originally according to the plan, and the organization was actually planning on staying hidden for a bit longer, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good of humanity. No matter how much he wanted to, the President of Galbadia wasn't going to be able to keep his army at bay for that much longer, and with Esthar up in arms already, he was willing to bet money that the technologically advanced city would not stand for very long against the unplanned assault.

He also knew that Garden wouldn't be able to keep the vital information as to what was happening to their hero a secret for long. After all, from the reports he received from the spies he had placed in position of the Garden, they valued the man being accused of murder higher than they did their current commander, and when that information leaked out, SeeD was going to want to act against the Estharians as well. With two of the most power military groups attacking the third from different sides, Esthar wouldn't last too long on its own.

He particularly enjoyed watching the President of Esthar squirm, knowing that his son was within the custody of his own men and being unable to do anything about it without implicating himself. Politics were such a harsh thing to contend with, and if the media found any reason to portray him as someone who couldn't care less about the working man, the Average Joes in Esthar, well then, that could pose a very big problem for him.

He couldn't help but admire that all of this chaos was taking place because one individual was being accused of murder.

He found it particularly interesting that so many people took an interest in this SeeD. Yes, he had led the charge to defeat the Sorceress, but he had also led Garden against the Galbadian soldiers when they too were being commanded by Hyne's Descendant. The action demanded respect, and he was very certain that the teen was receiving his fair share of it.

But after observing his actions for the time after the end of the war, he came to realize that Squall Leonhart would rather shy away from the public eye. It interested him that someone with so much accomplished in his relatively short life would rather live without being a spectacle.

_So sad that people don't get everything they wish for…_ he thought to himself. If life had been fair, than the good guys would never suffer the way they did, and if life were fair, the bad guys would get caught right away for the crimes they had committed. But life was indeed unfair; the world was an unfair place, where many people in the world fear facing it on a daily basis.

He contemplated the possibility of something slipping; of something in the plan going horribly wrong to the point where everything around it would crumble. That would, in turn, implicate his own men, his own spies, his own organization, and, also, himself. Each piece had to be placed in a strategic order, like a computer engineer programming a computer to do its bidding. If one piece of data was imputed incorrectly, then the computer would fail to work.

This had almost been the case when Leonhart had surrendered to the Estharians so quickly. But because of quick thinking, arrangements had been made for the plan to progress further despite this particular short coming, and so far it seemed as everything was working beautifully.

The trial would be held in Dollet, which was unbiased enough that it would be a fair one, but as long as he was scheming, he vowed to make sure that there was no trial. One of his men had been given the task to see to it that the trial would not take place, and he was merely waiting for the plot to present itself. His official had assured him that he would not fail, and he was counting on him to keep his word. If a trial did take place, then the frame up would not hold up – it was never meant to be long term anyway - and then more questions would begin to prop up.

No, he wouldn't allow that to happen.

Sitting back and waiting for assurance that the plan was proceeding as well as it should be, he clasped his hands together and simply watched.

* * *

**6:24:07**

* * *

Rinoa had been wondering around the Presidential Residence since hearing the grim news from the soldier; having sneaked away when Quistis had made her objections. She knew the others would understand why she did it, though they probably wouldn't be very happy with her. She didn't care though; had she expressed what she was about to do, the others would have wanted to go with her and she couldn't have that. It wasn't that she was being selfish; it was that there was more of a chance of getting caught if she were to move around in a group than if she was to sneak around by herself. Her work with the resistance faction in Timber had taught her that and the lesson had intensified when she'd met the others.

When she'd met Squall.

She had a reason for doing this; just as Squall had reason enough when she'd been in the same predicament. Even if she couldn't do anything to get him out of this mess, just seeing how he was doing right then and there would be enough for her, even if it wasn't for very long.

She wanted to make sure that he was alright; that the soldier had been telling them the truth instead of trying to protect them from it. They had a right to know whether or not he had been serious injured during the confrontation and if she had to track down her Knight in order to find out the truth, then so be it. Even if he didn't tell her initially, she would find out.

Whenever she had run into a worker of soldier who was in her way, Rinoa had feigned lost, and had asked the location of the interrogation center. She just had to caught up before they took him away. Soon enough, she'd arrived, only to find that no one was there. Cursing her luck, she'd left, hoping to find something that would help her find him, and she nearly jumped in elation upon finding a directory nearby. Figuring that they would place Squall in a holding cell for the time being, she made a dead run for the holding prisons, praying that she caught up before it was too late.

Rounding a corner, her spirits suddenly lifted as she caught sight of five figures walking down the hallway towards a set of double doors. Three of them were Estharian soldiers, all dressed in the purple and silver uniforms she had grown used to seeing during the Ultimecia war. Another man was dressed completely in black and possessed dark skin. He even appeared to be wearing sunglasses, which reminded the girl of the days she grew up with soldiers wondering around everywhere she went.

But it was the fifth figure that brought her hopes up. He was dressed in a black leather jacket; not the one from the war, but a different kind, and a pair of blue jeans and black boots.

No longer caring whether or not she was caught, she ran down the hall, in hopes of catching up to them before they passed through the doors and she lost them. "Squall!" She shouted out, trying to get their attention.

The male she was trying to address seemed to look up at his name being called, but lowered his head again, probably thinking that it had been his imagination. He always did think too much.

"Squall!" She tried again, and this time she was successful in gaining his attention. He looked up once again, and inclined his head so that he was looking behind him. Upon seeing who it was that was calling him, he immediately tried to turn around, only to have two of the soldiers grab him by either arm, stopping his movement. The man in black turned around to see what the hold up was, and immediately began to approach her.

"This is a restricted area," He informed her. "I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Please, let me just talk to him," Rinoa begged. "just for a minute."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." The man shook his head. "I have my orders."

"I've been cooperating for this long, haven't I?" Squall stated, frowning as he did. Never before had she missed that frown. "Doesn't that tell you that I don't intend on escaping?"

The man looked to Squall and back to Rinoa before frowning in thought. After a moment, he turned to look back at Squall and nodded. "Alright, I suppose you haven't done anything to prove otherwise. I'll let you two have five minutes, but that's all we can spare."

The man nodded at the soldiers, and they both released their grip on the SeeD, but neither made a move to remove the handcuffs on his wrists.

Rinoa resisted the urge to jump up and hug the man in black, merely waiting for her boyfriend - her knight - to walk towards her. The man even took a few steps away from the couple to grant them some privacy.

When Squall had approached her, Rinoa immediately jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Squall would have hugged her back if not for the handcuffs securing his arms behind his back. After a moment, she released him, glaring at him through tearful eyes. "You're a big idiot. What do you think you were doing?"

Squall sighed at the question. "Averting a war."

Rinoa shook her head and sighed. "I've got news for you; it didn't work. My father is barely keeping the Galbadian troops at bay, and when Garden finds out what's going on, they're going to want a part in ripping Esthar a new one."

"I know." Squall nodded. "I talked to Kiros briefly just after arriving."

"Must you be so honourable?" Rinoa asked. "The others are here, and we're all going to do what we can to help, of course." Shaking her head, she laughed lightly. "And here I thought Esthar was the most technologically advanced city in the world. It looks like they're going back a few decades or something."

Squall raised an eyebrow and Rinoa realized that he hadn't heard much else besides the obvious. "Your father is losing his patience with the government. They keep going against his orders. When Laguna hears about this, I'm guessing he's going to lose it. He might even prove where you inherited your temper."

"The government's in an uproar because they think he's being too lenient." Squall explained. "They're just doing what they think is right."

"Why are you justifying their actions?" Rinoa asked. "They've pretty much convicted you! The trial is just there for appearances."

"So you've heard about that."

"I'm not the only one." Rinoa said. "There was a soldier heading to your dad's office, and that's where we found out about it. I'm guessing he went in and told him; Cid and Edea too. If he knows, then I doubt he's very happy about it. I can only imagine what Edea's expression will be when she finds out."

The raven haired girl looked back towards the group of four, who were waiting patiently for the couple to finish their conversation. Turning back to Squall, she lowered her voice. "It isn't fair. They shouldn't be treating you like a criminal when they don't even know what happened. You saved us all; you deserve much more respect than you're getting right now."

Squall looked like he wanted to protest, but Rinoa didn't let him. "Look, they're not even paying any attention to you right now, so why can't we just get out of here? They wouldn't notice until after we've left."

She knew it was a long shot. She just didn't want to see Squall being persecuted for something that he didn't do. They hadn't even seen all of the evidence yet and they were acting as though they got the bad guy when they couldn't be further from the truth.

Yet, she wasn't surprised when Squall looked over towards the guards and shook his head in response to the suggestion. "I know it's not fair, but life isn't fair. They're treating me the way they are because they think they have their murderer. If we were in the same position, I think we'd act the exact same way. But if I leave now, that will only look poorly on the both of us. Esthar would have an excuse to attack Garden, and we don't need that right now."

"Dammit Squall, you're not a martyr." Rinoa cried. "You didn't do anything wrong; you shouldn't have to pay the price just because someone else committed a crime. Let me save you, just like you saved me from making the same kind of mistake?"

"The situation back then was different."

"How is this any different from when you stopped me? When I was dead set on letting the Estharians send me into outer space – for the world's protection – it was you who barged in and stopped me. I couldn't control the situation then any more than you can now, so tell me; what's the difference? I didn't think I had a choice back then, and you still came and you _still_ stopped me from making a horrible mistake. You're about to make a huge mistake because _you_ think you don't have a choice!"

"This is only temporary." Squall answered. "They'll have the evidence they need and then they'll have to release me. I won't be imprisoned for very long, and I can accept that. That is the biggest difference between then and now, Rinoa. You were condemning yourself to a lifetime imprisonment – because you became a Sorceress. Even if Ultimecia forced you to, it didn't matter to them."

"They had every right to think I was a threat, Squall." Rinoa interjected. "I was a risk; I destroyed the Lunar Base—"

"No," Squall said firmly. "That wasn't your fault. Ultimecia was in control; you couldn't have stopped her if you tried. Ultimecia caused the Lunar Cry that took out the Lunar Base; not you. And to be honest, if the Estharians had launched you into space, I don't know what would have happened. Ultimecia wouldn't have been able to use you anymore, but that was what she'd intended anyway; that was why she had you release the seal on Adel's tomb, so that the Lunar Cry would bring it back to the planet and she'd have a body to control."

Squall took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. "But I don't even want to think about that; not just because Adel might have returned, and the Sorceress might have lost out to her, but because I wouldn't have been able to see you again. You _will_ see me again; after this whole mess is settled; after whatever evidence that needs to be used to prove I couldn't have done it is shown to whoever or whatever needs to see it."

Rinoa frowned deeply. Was this how Esthar repaid those who helped them? Those who did their dirty work while they hoped and prayed that their plan would work?

"Look at the evidence that's already been stacked against me," Squall explained. "Until Galbadia's evidence arrives, that's all they have, and it's all they think they need."

"I know," Rinoa sighed in defeat. "I don't like it, but I know. It's just… it's just so not fair." She looked up at him before tilting her head to the side. "We're doing everything we can to get this fixed. Everyone; even your father. You know he is, don't you?"

"Yeah," Squall nodded. "But his hands are tied until that evidence arrives. Not that I'm one to talk."

He gestured with his hands, restrained behind him and Rinoa couldn't help but smile at the attempt. It was still so rare for Squall to make light of something, and she wished it was under better circumstance. Lifting her chin up, she tried to look sternly at him as she spoke. "Just don't let them pick on you anymore. Or I'm coming after the perpetrator who _thinks_ he can get away with it."

"Is that an order?" Squall asked, raising an eyebrow. "But I thought the contract between Garden and Timber had been concluded."

"You can consider it as such," Rinoa smirked, knowing he was only joking. "An order from your Sorceress."

Just as Squall was about to answer, the man in black came to stand with the couple. "Sorry, but your time is up. We have to go now."

Squall looked at Rinoa for a moment before nodding in response. "Yeah, I know."

The man nodded before gesturing towards one of the soldiers and turning to Rinoa. "I'll have this soldier bring you back to the Presidential office." He said. "We don't really need him here anyway."

The soldier saluted in the man's direction before coming to stand beside the Sorceress. Rinoa sighed, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. Just as she was about to turn and leave, Squall took a step forward, surprising her. He took advantage of her shock before leaning forward and kissing her softly on the forehead. "I'll be alright…" he whispered. "I promise."

Rinoa couldn't say anything, and merely nodded in response, watching as the two remaining soldiers and the man in black escorted Squall through the double doors at the end of the hallway, before the soldier left behind began to escort her back to the Presidential office.

* * *

While the Presidential office was placed on the sixty-ninth floor in the Estharian Residence, the communications tactical group was stationed much closer to the ground, relying on holographic imagery to send messages of any sort of communications contact to its source. It was only security detail and the Cabinet who relied on the soldiers stationed in the area to deliver a message specifically.

The room itself was sparse, with enough space for a track meet to take place. The windows stemmed from the floor up towards the ceiling, slightly tilted so that the ceiling space appeared larger than the flat red floor they stepped on. A section of blue could be found in some areas of the room, mostly to the far sides, but there was one specifically positioned in the middle. Each of these blue spaces were actually tinted glass, so that the people below could be seen. It was a little disconcerting due to the height, but the Estharians had long since gotten used to the sight.

The space in the middle was different. Although the view was pretty much the same from where someone stood on top of it, it was actually designed to be a telecommunications device; of which a hologram-projected-version of themselves would be transferred to anyone they wished to deliver their message. There were a total of eight separate spaces on this blue area, so that each and every technician could deliver a message even if it was being used by a colleague.

Surrounding the circumference of the room were booths, each stationed with two people, one on either end, and each space in the middle contained a thin monitor in front of them, curving all around the room until it reached the opposite side forming a U-like symbol. The thin monitor appeared to be a simple computer screen, but the touch-pad technology the Estharians usually took for granted allowed them to touch the screen in order to accept or decline a phone call. A series of different pages popped up on all corners of the screen, usually overlapping each other in the end, was set up so the call could be accepted even while the technician was filling in a request or searching to see where the desired caller was stationed currently, as well as his or her status.

Normally, the technicians were left to their own devices; allowed to work in their own time and in the past had proven capable of delivering a message to the desired person. However, they were currently being visited by the Jared Ashen. He stood in the center of the room, well away from the holographic machines, with his arms folded across his chest in an impatient stance. Checking his watch, he sighed in exasperation. "Why haven't they responded to us yet?"

"Sir," one of the technicians, a woman dressed in a simple white robe with a purple stripe running down the front, spoke up. "We're more than capable of contacting you when the Galbadians return your request."

Jared grinned grimly. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No sir," the technician immediately defended. "I mean no disrespect, but I was merely suggesting that, rather than waste your precious time keeping us company, you would rather do something far more interesting."

The grimness of the grin diminished and he smiled. "Thank you anyway, but I'd rather receive the message in person."

The technician nodded and returned to her work. Jared understood the reasoning behind her actions; his presence probably made them all nervous and, considering what his cabinet had done no more than two hours prior, he couldn't blame any of them. The Cabinet held power that was secondary only to the President but, in times where the Leader of Esthar could not come to a decisive decision, the Cabinet was forced to use their power in the best interest of their country.

After the meeting had adjourned, Jared had sent a call to the Galbadian Embassy, in hopes that he would be able to speak to the Galbadian President personally. However, due to the mess the Estharian General had created by invading their former enemy's country, the Embassy could not patch him through. Apparently, the President had his own matters to attend to; no doubt trying to restore order to his people, but it was wearing on his patience level. They needed his affirmation of his co-operation immediately.

The reason the trial had been decided before obtaining the prisoner's statement was to see to it that the people of Esthar saw justice for the crime. There was doubt in his mind whether or not the man who once allied himself with Esthar in order to defeat the Sorceress had been involved in the crime, but the people didn't seem to agree. According to the reports being gathered by the numerous reporters within the city, the people wanted justice to be served, even if members of the government were sceptical when it came to his involvement. Christine had put it perfectly; it seemed highly unlikely that a man who stepped down from a position of power would wish to take out another government's power solely for his own gain. The media was all over the situation, exploiting the people's fears and stating that the criminal was still at large. They needed to think of the people first and, so far; it appeared as though Leonhart was their murderer. The evidence against him was substantial and could not be ignored in favour of a lengthy investigation. If it turned out that Leonhart was innocent, then they would issue a public apology, but until then, they had no choice but to prosecute him as an offender.

And as much as he understood the repercussions of his actions were going to be felt once the President found out, he knew that he had the best interest of the people to think about.

"Sir," the technician broke his train of thoughts and directed his attention towards him; a man dressed similarly to his cohort. "I'm receiving a transmission that appears to have come from the Galbadian Residence."

"Patch them through on the large screen." Jared said. He hoped that the President was responding to his subpoena order, despite the current situations. It didn't look good for Esthar to subpoena documented images right after their soldiers invaded the country they were requesting aid from.

Unfortunately, this was the defence's only testament to their client's innocence and if all evidence wasn't presented within an allotted time to allow the defence a chance to defend their client, there was a chance that the case would be thrown out.

A moment after he gave his order, a large screen descended from the ceiling above and flickered for a moment before an on-screen image of the President of Galbadia appeared on it. He didn't appear to be all too impressed that the Estharians were contacting him, but he also didn't appear to want to point that bit out. Instead, Jared held his breath, waiting for President Caraway to speak first.

"Let us skip the pleasantries and get right down to business." The former Galbadian General spoke after a moment of silence.

"I expected you would suggest us to do so, sir." Jared said. "I trust that you received our subpoena."

"Indeed I have." Caraway stated simply. "But before I say anything else on the matter, I wish to discuss a couple of things with you."

"Certainly sir."

"These surveillance tapes you have subpoenaed. I trust that they will be put to use in some sort of trial?"

"We have already spoken to the Arch Duke in Dollet about the proceedings." Jared answered. He had expected the conversation to turn in this direction. "The trial will take place within city of Dollet as an un-biased judge, so to speak, in order to determine an outcome to this entire mess. In the case that the suspect chooses a trial by judge, Dollet will begin a jury selection in order to determine the men or women to decide what happens to him."

"So the trial will be held in Dollet?" Caraway asked, as though confirming something."

"Yes sir. In fact, the trial will take place within a month's time, in order to properly prepare a defence and prosecution. We are still negotiating on a specific date and time."

"I see…" The Galbadian President appeared thoughtful for a moment before nodding to himself and looking directly through the communications device. "If that is the case, then I will forward any and all video and audio documentation your government has subpoenaed to the Dollet authorities pending the trial. In order to have a completely unbiased trial take place, I believe it would be prudent to allow the third party, in this case Dollet, to see to the tapes and recordings safety, wouldn't you agree? They would also wish to look over this evidence themselves, as well as the evidence you already have, since it is sensible of them to be unbiased."

This, Jared had not been expecting. For a moment, he was lost for words, but he soon composed himself accordingly. It did make sense; to allow Dollet to be the keepers so as the tapes and documentation was not tampered with prior to the proceedings. "I would agree, sir."

"Good. The tapes will arrive in Dollet within a window of four hours. I trust your evidence will follow right along."

"That it will," Jared said, instructing one of the operators to put in a call to the evidence team. He then bowed in respect to the Galbadian President. "Thank you sir. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

"On the subject of the trial, no. You seemed to have answered all of my questions regarding that subject." Caraway's expression never wavered from its serious appearance. "However, on the subject of what took place earlier this afternoon…"

"It is the President's wish to express his most sincere apology in regards to the invasion." Jared broke in. He knew the President had been furious once he became aware of the General's rash behaviour, and he felt that it would be plausible to apologize on behalf of him. "The Estharian General, Charles Orally, failed to inform our president on his intentions, and has been suspended because of his actions."

"That's good to hear." Caraway interjected. "Nevertheless, what is done has been done, and no one can change that fact. Due to this fact, it is in your best interest as well as Galbadia's that you do not expect much participation in regards to anything aside from what legally needs to be accomplished. I only send the tapes out of deep respect for the young man you currently hold in your custody, and hope that our evidence will outweigh yours. Needless to say I am only cooperating to keep an innocent man out of jail. Do not expect Galbadia to be so forthcoming in the future. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir." The Estharian man bowed.

"Good." Caraway said, sitting back in his chair. "Give my regards to your President, and make sure he receives my statement."

The image blinked out in front of him, leaving the room silent.

* * *

**6:36:16**

* * *

Rinoa turned the corner, following closely behind the soldier leading her back towards the Presidential office. After security had taken Squall into custody, the raven-haired sorceress had become lost in thought as they manoeuvred through each hallway and avoided the multitudes of workers employed within the massive building.

She couldn't help but remember the last time she had come to Esthar. It had happened after the Lunar Cry, so the city's technology had been rendered useless, lying in the streets and left alone until the power returned. She had been rescued from the Sorceress' Memorial, and when the call from Kiros had come, asking for their cooperation in a mission, everyone of the team had been suspicious.

She recalled that, although the city was suffering from an all around power failure, it had been a beautiful sight to take in. Even though Squall had suggested she stay behind in case it was a trap to capture her, she still had tagged along, and she didn't regret it.

But those fears of her being taken into custody once more had been banished upon entering the Presidential Office and seeing the smiling faces of Kiros, Ward and Laguna; the trio of Galbadian soldiers whom had been the subjects of Ellone's mysterious powers. Rinoa herself had not been one of the people the elder girl had sent into the past, but she did suspect her hand in hearing Squall's voice in outer space.

Closing her eyes at the painful memory, she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She had only just finished crying as they continued towards their destination and she wanted to be strong for her friends. Even though times were rough, she knew Squall wouldn't want another person's pity. It was a difficult decision; one of which Rinoa wasn't sure she would be able to make in his position, and she had to be strong; if not for herself and the others, than for him at least.

_Although you were also very close to making the same mistake…_ Rinoa thought to herself as they turned yet another corner. She had been fully prepared to be sealed off in space; to spend the rest of her days in stasis, if only to prevent her powers from taking over her. Squall had rescued her then; had told her in his actions how much he wanted her to stay.

She wished he had listened to her reasoning; that he was innocent and didn't need to give up when he didn't do anything wrong. Instead, in his usual stubborn matter, he chose to continue down this path. He had even appeared prepared to spend the rest of his life locked up.

On the outside, he appeared to be unaffected by his decision.

On the inside, it was a whole different story.

Falling out of her thoughts, she looked up to see that they had turned yet another corner, and could see her friends, gathered in front of the Presidential Office, just as she had left them. Cid and Edea Kramer were both with them; probably having talked to Laguna about this whole mess.

Selphie was the first to spot her, and the smaller girl began jumping up and down on the spot, tugging on both Zell and Irvine's arms and pointing in her general direction. Both males looked up, which attracted Quistis' attention and, soon, everyone was watching her approach, Selphie having bounded over towards the raven-haired youth and pulled her towards the group.

"Where have you been?!" Selphie yelled as they approached the others. "We've been so worried!"

Rinoa took in a deep breath, even as the others gathered around her. "I saw him."

Judging by the looks she received from those simple yet complicated words, she understood that she didn't need to explain herself. "I caught him just before they put him in lock up."

"Well don't just stand there." Quistis broke in, gesturing for the girl to continue. "What happened?"

"Is he okay?" Zell jumped in.

"What'd he say?" Irvine prompted.

"If those meanies hurt him…" Selphie started but Rinoa put up her hand to silence their inquiries.

"He's alright, you guys." Rinoa said, addressing the first question. "All he got from getting attacked in interrogation was a split lip. Nothing serious, though I told him not to let them walk all over him anymore."

"That's a relief." Irvine said, taking off the hat he wore and wiping his forehead. "Was startin' to think he got replaced with a clone or somethin'."

"Don't even say that!" Selphie said, slapping Irvine on the arm. Even while the Galbadian sharpshooter rubbed at the appendage, Selphie whirled on Rinoa once again. "What did he say?"

"We didn't get much time, so we talked about a few things." Rinoa answered simply.

"Did you tell him he was bein' stupid?" Zell interjected. "That he's takin' the fall for some jackass who's still out there?"

"Yes I did." Rinoa answered before averting her gaze. "And he knows it too. But he still went with them. He said it was to prevent Esthar from starting a war with Garden."

"Lotta good that'll do." Irvine muttered. "Galbadia's already itching to start a brawl with the Estharians."

"He knows that too, and if anything it's fuelling his actions." Rinoa explained. "He said that the Estharians are just doing what they think is the right thing and that if the position was reversed we'd be acting the exact same way."

"As much as I'd hate to admit it," Cid stated, Edea nodding in agreement. "he's absolutely right. The Estharians have been convinced, by someone on the outside or the inside, that they have the one responsible for the crime, and they plan to act according to this belief. There's little we can do about it until those tapes arrive in Esthar and the truth has been exposed."

"I know that." Rinoa said. "And that's exactly what he said too. It's just that…what if something happens to that evidence? What if it gets tampered with and it makes him look even guiltier? He could spend the rest of his life paying for a crime he never committed. It wouldn't matter how many people said he didn't do it, if the evidence is stacked against him then he wouldn't stand a chance by himself."

No one said a word for a moment, each one absorbing the meaning behind Rinoa's words. The young Sorceress clenched and unclenched her fists in an attempt to curb her emotions, but all it was doing was making her feel worse. What right did the Estharians have to treat him that way? To treat him like a common criminal with no rights or freedom of his own? What right did anyone have to treat anyone like that? It was degrading and humiliating and it pained her to see Squall in that position; where he couldn't even retaliate without it looking as though he were guilty.

"There is something else, isn't there?" Edea spoke, breaking the silence and startling everyone as a result. "There is something else bothering you, isn't there child?"

Rinoa wanted to deny that there was nothing wrong; to be the optimist in the group where there could be no one else. To tell them that everything was fine and that everything was going to return to normal. But if she said any of that, it would have been a lie, and the former Sorceress would know it as well. As much as she wanted to reassure the others, she knew that she owed it to them to express her concerns. They had known Squall for far longer than she had; they were his family and they had a right to know whether everything was truly alright.

Sighing, Rinoa wished that she could have been anywhere but where she was at the moment; that she would just wake up and everything – this entire ordeal – was just a dream. That she would find Squall training in the Garden Training Center like he did any other time he was off-duty and that she could tell him about this ridiculous dream. Then he would shrug it off as nothing to worry about and tell her it was just a dream and that dreams couldn't hurt her, but keep her company anyway – for her own comfort if nothing else.

But it wasn't a dream. It was reality, and there wasn't a single thing she could do to change it. So she released the breath she had taken and decided to tell them the truth. "When I spoke to him, he said he was alright, which can mean a whole lot of things, as we all know. And I told him what I thought about what he was doing. He listened, and said that everything was going to be alright."

She paused for a moment, reflecting on what she was going to say next before choosing to finally just say it. "But what he said and how he felt were two different things. Don't ask me to explain, I'm not sure what it is myself, but I was able to f_eel _how he felt. You couldn't tell by looking at him or watching his expressions but I just knew. And he was scared – boarder lining terrified – I can't even begin to describe it. I think he already knows what we're worried about, and he's worried too, but he's still willing to co-operate just so the rest of us don't have to fight."

"Shit…" Zell said after another moment of silence.

Rinoa could understand why no one said anything. What could anyone say after hearing something like that? It sounded unbelievable, even if she knew it was true. Just when she was about to disregard what she had told her friends, Edea stepped in, stopping her from doing so. "You believe that you felt how he was feeling because in a sense, it is true."

Rinoa blinked in confusion while Edea continued. "You and Squall are both closely connected, due to two things. First is the things the two of you went through together, and the second, and most important of the two, is your personal feelings for one another. Because of these two things, a bond is beginning to take form between the two of you; the bond that a Sorceress possesses with her Knight. Right now, it is still only in the developing stage, however as it grows, you will both be able to feel exactly what the other is feeling by will. Did Squall give any indication that he felt your emotions?"

Rinoa shook her head in response. "As I thought. The bond, although it reaches to both ends, can only be felt by one of the two recipients at first. Right now, because of your powers, your side of the bond is stronger than his end, and thus you are able to sense how he feels without him even knowing that you are doing it."

"Whoa…" Irvine muttered, Selphie nodding in agreement. "So if she wants to, whenever he says 'I'm fine' from now on, she can call him on lying or something?"

"Exactly." Edea nodded. "But only as it becomes stronger will Rinoa be able to call upon it by will. Right now, it works some times, but other times it will be unresponsive. Something must have happened to the both of you to have this bond begin to build so quickly…"

Rinoa thought about it for a moment before the realization came to her. Time Compression! It made absolute sense! She went back into Time Compression when it was apparent Squall hadn't made it. She had searched all over for him until she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of despair. She followed it and that was when she had found him in that barren wasteland. Thinking back on it, she hadn't understood where the feeling had come from, but now she knew.

Those feelings of despair had come from him.

When they had returned from Time Compression, neither Rinoa nor Squall had spoken about that barren place. Something about it had shattered him emotionally and, out of respect, Rinoa had not told the others about it. She felt that it would be best if Squall told them when he was ready to face it again, but she didn't know when he would be ready to discuss something that severe to anyone.

It was out of respect for Squall's personal wishes that she opted to keep her mouth shut about it. "I wish I knew." She said, shrugging. "Maybe it was when we were in space, or maybe even before that. I haven't felt any kind of emotion from him before now anyway, so your guess is as good as mine."

Edea gave her a sceptical look, but did not seem to wish to question her word and Rinoa was extremely grateful for it. She knew that, eventually, the former Sorceress would ask her about it, but she wouldn't say anything on the subject unless she talked to Squall about it first.

* * *

After separating from Rinoa, he had been escorted through the set of double doors that had stood at the end of the hallway and had entered yet another corridor. The only differences were the colouring; on the outside the walls were an off-white tone and the rugs that laminated the halls were a dark red, but in this hallway, the walls were a mundane grey, and there were no carpets. Not that he'd care either way. He wasn't exactly in a position to ask for hospitality.

After confiscating his personal items, such as his wrist watch, the bud of his earring, his gloves and the Griever chain, the officials took his fingerprints and set them on record before handing him a serial number of which he was to hold in front of him while they took his mug shot. After that, he was outfitted in the standard uniform the prisoners were forced to wear; a light blue muscle shirt with a matching pair of pants and a white t-shirt underneath and given a pair of white running shoes in his shoes size. His clothes and boots were stored with the rest of his confiscated belongings.

Throughout the process, he heard others coming into the same room, being forced to co-operate through the same set up he had, all fighting their way through the guards, and trying to escape, only succeeding in being restrained and forced to comply with the guards.

Squall hadn't so much as blinked out of turn.

It had all taken the span of five minutes, and he could tell the guards were thankful for his co-operation. He could only imagine what they had to put up with from the prisoners who tried to make a run for it. He had tripped one of the men who tried to get away, and it had almost escalated into an all out brawl.

The only thing stopping the assailant from attacking the SeeD had been the cuffs keeping his hands tied behind his back.

He had been escorted to a holding cell and, as soon as he heard the door slam shut behind him, and was released of the pair of cuffs keeping his owns hands bound, Squall immediately headed straight for the bed propped up in the corner, stationed off to one side and sat down. The cell was a fairly decent size, designed to hold only one prisoner, but he didn't complain. Taking a quick look of his surroundings, he took notice that his cell was attached to another one on either side of him, but he didn't bother to acquaint himself with the other cellmates, having never done so in the past with other cadets at Garden.

He could only imagine the kind of hell he was putting the others through and it tore him up inside. As much as he tried to appear indifferent to them, the others were his friends, and he didn't want to cause them any pain or suffering. He knew he couldn't have it both ways, and that if he had chosen to run and hide, it would've been selfish. But just remembering the expression on Rinoa's face when he had told her what he had to do was enough to hurt him. He couldn't deny that he had wanted to get out of there; to pretend that this entire thing hadn't happened, and to personally have a hand in finding whoever it was who framed him, but he couldn't; not without putting himself in front of everyone else.

Whoever framed him wanted the leading countries to start a war between each other, and if he had run it would have been like playing into their hands. On the other hand, the world might already be on the brink of another war, and he knew this entire situation was the leading cause.

If he did get out of this mess, he knew he would be facing disciplinary charges. He disobeyed a direct order from his superior and, despite the circumstance; he knew what he had been doing at the time. Sometimes, the rules just needed to be broken in order to see the bigger picture.

Chuckling softly, Squall shook his head. _I'm starting to sound like Seifer_.

"Something funny, punk?"

Squall looked up from his musings to see a face staring at him from the far side of his cell. Just by looking at him, Squall figured the man was bigger than him, outfitted the same way. His head was shaven, and it looked as though the cell uniform barely fit him. Catching something white from the sleeve of the inmate's shirt, Squall realized it was a plastic utensil; probably the closest thing to a weapon any of them could get their hands on.

The SeeD knew who he was directing his question to, but chose not to respond, simply staring at him for a moment before redirecting his gaze to the floor. He didn't have the energy to deal with this.

Thanks to the junctions, his shoulder no longer ached from where he'd been grazed by the gunshot earlier, and even his lip had begun to heal when he'd handed the junctions over to security. It wasn't that he was afraid to get hurt; he felt it was an unnecessary action – meaningless in the big picture.

"I asked you a fucking question." The man snapped. Once again, the SeeD ignored him.

"You better fuckin' answer him." A voice from directly behind him spoke. Squall inclined his head marginally to see who it was and it turned out to be another inmate. This one, in contrast to the first, was tall and lanky; his long dirty-blonde hair kept in a ponytail and looking like it hadn't been washed in a while. He was practically poking his head through the cell bars, towards Squall's left, but upon discovering the source of the voice, Squall returned to gazing at the floor in front of him.

"Go away." He said. The words came out clear and precise; just as they had when he'd say the same thing to the cadets at Garden. He understood that this was not the Garden where most people were wary of him from time to time, but he still had to try. He had more important things to worry about than getting picked on.

He wasn't surprised when they didn't listen. The lanky one made a shrill sound – the SeeD assumed he was laughing though he couldn't at all be sure - right next to his ear and Squall, very subtly, moved closer to the head of the bed, wincing slightly from the sound. "Butch, he's gotta be a newb." The lanky one said. "Haven't seen him around here before."

"Me neither. Yeah, he's definitely a newb. He wouldn't be talking ta me like that if he wasn't."

Squall closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore them. It wasn't like this was his first time inside a prison; he'd been taken to the Desert District Prison in Galbadia after attempting to kill the Sorceress. True, he hadn't actually spent much time in a cell until the guards had come to interrogate him, but all the same he'd been left relatively alone.

_Why couldn't it have been like that?_ Squall mused to himself, but still said nothing, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, they'd take the hint and leave him alone.

Of course he was never that fortunate and Hyne laughed in his face, just like he always did.

"Hey, listen here, newb," the bigger one – Butch – said, interrupting his thoughts once again. "If you wanna avoid a fight, you beta do exactly what I tell ya ta do, and I'm tellin' ya ta answer my fucking question."

He couldn't help but wonder exactly how this man planned to get to him through these bars, but still didn't say anything. Instead, he tried to appear indifferent to his threat, but even then he was beginning to lose his patience. Rinoa's words were ringing in his ears, telling him not to let anyone else walk all over him anymore, and it wasn't helping to alleviate the headache that was beginning to spring forth.

With everything that had happened thus far, who could blame him?

"I'm only gonna ask ya one more time." Butch said, breaking through his thoughts. "What's so fucking funny, punk?"

"And I'm only going to warn you one more time." Squall's tone was deathly calm. "Leave me alone."

"Look at 'im." The lanky one said, still laughing that aggravatingly shrill laugh. "He thinks he's tough shit. And he's nuthin' but a puny kid, too. What the fuck is that all about?"

"He can think whatever the fuck he wants, but he better not fuck around with me." Butch snarled.

"And you expect to get him through that iron cage?" A voice that sounded a little further away from them sounded, and both Butch and his friend turned their attention towards it. Squall looked out of the corner of his eye, wondering just what was about to happen next. The man who was speaking was directly across from his cell; but he couldn't tell much else from where he was sitting. But he could tell from what he did see that the man was Caucasian; had a tattoo of a snake from his neck that looked like it was heading up instead of down, which reminded him a lot of Zell's tattoo.

"Fuck you!" Butch shouted. "Mind your own god-damned business!"

"You're all talk and no bite." The man said. "You're not gonna be able to do anything to him – you can't even reach him from where you are."

"I can!" the lanky one said and reached to pin Squall against the bars—

—And found that his face was actually _through_ the gaps between the bars of the cell before Squall's elbow connected with the bridge of his nose.

The SeeD heard more than saw the lanky man fall on his backside, and heard him curse through his mouth – which was probably cupping his nose. He saw Butch staring at him in wide-eyed wonder, and heard the interloper laughing outright. "Now will you leave me alone?"

Butch was _still_ staring at him like he was something alien and Squall sighed, simply turning his attention away from him and back towards the ground. The other man's laughter was just beginning to taper down when he heard the door to the holding bay open and shut, a pair of footfalls echoing down the hall and getting closer.

_Great… just what I needed._ Squall frowned, but didn't lift his gaze from the floor.

Finally the footfalls stopped and when he looked over, he noted the shadow of one of the guards – a man dressed out of the Estharian soldier uniforms. He was wearing something similar to the guards at the D-District Prison, only beige and silver in contrast to the blue and red. The man was holding some kind of baton – probably used to threaten the inmates – and when he checked the lanky man's cell, he cursed loudly. "What the hell happened?"

No one answered; Squall didn't know if it was because no one else wanted to, or that the question was being addressed to someone specifically.

He realized it was the latter, however, when he heard a loud sound – probably the baton or whatever hitting against the side of the bars. "I just asked you a question."

"Relax," the man across from him said just as he was about to answer. "He doesn't know anything; just mindin' his own business. I saw it though; Lenny was putting his face too close to the bars again and knocked his nose loose. Didn'cha, Lenny?"

Squall turned his head marginally to see Lenny staring at the guard before furiously nodding his head. His hand was cupped over his nose and he could see blood seeping through the cracks between his fingers.

The guard looked between Lenny and the interloper and then back at Squall before he sighed. "Just when I thought things were about to get interesting."

He moved back towards the door and out of Squall's vantage point, but a moment later, a loud clinking sound came from nearby and the door to Lenny's cell opened, the guard approaching him with his baton in hand. "Off to medical. Don't try anything this time, or your nose'll be the least of your problems."

Lenny didn't object, simply moving out of his cell with the guard, the cell door closing once the inmate was out in the hall. The guard put shackles around Lenny's wrists and legs before having him move down the hallway in front of him, towards the door and, probably, to the infirmary.

Squall frowned. It wasn't that someone had lied for him to get him out of trouble; he hadn't appreciated it, but it had happened. He was actually worried about what this whole thing was doing to him.

Usually, he was extremely even tempered and could hold it in for as long as possible until he went to the training center in Balamb Garden to get it out of his system. But this time, he had completely lost it; had moved without thinking and had broken some guy's nose because he wouldn't leave him alone.

Closing his eyes tightly, Squall wondered what would have happened had they actually been sharing a cell. Would he have done something worse?

Sighing, he stretched out on the bed, his arms stretched out with his hands supporting the back of his head. He took in a deep calming breath before letting it out slowly, counting backwards from ten, curling and uncurling his fingers. He could feel it working; the adrenaline he had pumping through his veins was slowly ebbing away, taking with it the pent up frustrations he had fuelled up from the last few hours. It wasn't good for him to keep it all bottled up, but it would be even worse if he let it all out, especially now, given the current circumstances.

_Get your mind off of this, Leonhart, _he thought to himself. _Think of a contingency plan, just in case. You can't run; that'll just make you seem guilty. But you can't keep letting people push you around either. Physically fighting back seems effective, but it works against you, so just don't let it happen again. _

Squall nodded to himself in silent affirmation before directing his gaze up onto the bunk above him. The last thoughts he had before drifting off were of how the others were dealing with the situation.

* * *

**6:46:12**

* * *

When he cracked his eyes open, the first thing he did was check the time. If he wanted to get the things he needed to get done soon enough to meet up with his friends, he was gonna have to haul ass.

Bobby Anderson yawned as he stretched his arms above his head, rising to his feet and scratching his ass through his boxers. He pulled his muscle shirt over his head and threw it back onto the bed as he made his way over to the bathroom.

Bobby used to be one of those kids who didn't have a single problem in his life until he fell in with the wrong crowd. Next thing everyone knew, Bobby was stealing money in order to get high with the rest of his friends. He dropped out of school soon after that, pretending to be attending classes when in actuality he was hanging out in arcades or at his friend's house, smoking dope and getting high. He had thought he had it made until the cops busted him for shoplifting and charged him with possession of an illegal substance when they found his stash,

Then it went down hill. Since it was a first offence, he received a sentence of two hundred and fifty hours of community service and was required to return to school, since he was only fifteen at the time. Five years after that, after a blow out with his father, he had been tossed out into the street, and told to make it on his own.

He had bummed around for a few years; jumping from one friend's house to another, and stealing money in order to get a room for the night. On the nights where he was stuck outside, he'd sleep in the back alley. He didn't have a job, so how was he supposed to find a place to live? And any money he did find he used for drugs mostly.

That was where Jack came into the equation.

Six years ago, Jack had been coming home from work when he found his younger brother on the street, begging for money. He had just been about to walk away, leaving behind some of his spare change when he took another look at him and recognized him. Straight away, he hadn't asked questions and brought him to his apartment to get a bite to eat.

It was later that night when the questions came.

Bobby had told him about what happened with their parents and how they'd booted him out. He hadn't spoken to them since, so he had no idea if they were still alive or not. It wasn't like he cared about it though… or at least he thought he didn't care. It turned out that five years earlier, the house he used to live in burned down, and by the time they had gotten to the house, his father had already died. His mother had second degree burns all over her body, but by the time they arrived at the hospital, it was too late to save her.

So now, six years later, Bobby, at the ripe age of thirty, Bobby was cleaned up and an available bachelor. True, he had a couple of job interviews coming up – one of them being that very morning – but that didn't mean he couldn't freeload off his older brother for at least a little while longer. He had a bachelor pad he had his eye on, located pretty close by, and he wanted to be sure he could save up enough money to place a down payment. He had even started playing the lottery; hoping to hit it big. If anything, it'd be to pay back Jack for everything he'd done for him.

Jack was ten years Bobby's senior, and his half brother. Jack's real mother had died in a car crash, leaving his old man depressed for a while, until he met up with Bobby's mother. But despite the fact they had different mothers, Jack had always stood up for him, even when his dad was being a prick, and even when his mom had sided with his dad against them. Even when he dropped out of school, Jack managed to cover for him.

Bobby finished up in the bathroom and, after washing his hands, he strolled down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen, hoping that there was something edible to eat for breakfast. As he passed Jack's room, he stopped and strolled back, an eyebrow raised.

Jack was a neat freak, to put it lightly. Everything was colour coded, folded a specific amount of times, and filed symmetrically. It freaked Bobby out at times that someone could be so neat and tidy. He may have cleaned up his act since he got up off the streets, but that didn't mean he didn't leave clothes lying around the floor like normal people.

His older brother always was up and out of the house before Bobby was even out of bed in the mornings, especially on the weekends, but he always left him a note telling him what to record for him while he was out. There was a spoken agreement between the two males; never make Jack miss a show if he can avoid it and never force Bobby out of bed before ten am if he doesn't have to be.

Even though Bobby knew Jack's schedule off by heart, it was still nice to find a note left behind, telling him good morning and wishing him luck on whatever endeavour it was he was planning on doing next. Just as long as he kept the apartment clean.

But as he entered the bedroom, he noticed that something was off. The timer on Jack's computer stated that the last time it had been used was two nights ago. That didn't make any sense, since Jack always goes on the computer whenever he comes home from work. He didn't think his brother would have stayed overnight at the Presidential Residence, since the President was anal about anyone working twenty-four hours straight.

Also, Jack was usually still around at this time; just about ready to leave the house and head out to work. And yet he wasn't around. Bobby couldn't hear him shuffling around, but figured that maybe he had made an early start. Jack did that sometimes.

Shrugging it off, he approached the kitchen, in hopes of finding some breakfast, only to discover that there was no note left up for him. This had Bobby on edge, since Jack was, of course, by the date book kind of guy. He was never late for anything and was extremely anal when he was running behind schedule for just about everything. That was one thing Bobby couldn't stand about his older brother – he needed to learn to relax once in a while.

Deciding that he would stall on breakfast in order to get his brother's VCR all set up, Bobby sat down and turned on the television which was, predictably, set on the news. The black box set up on top of the TV made it so that, by default, the television returned to the news no matter what channel it was on previously. Bobby didn't mind at all. It saved him from pushing a couple of buttons on the remote.

"…And a recap of our top story," the pretty brunette news anchor spoke, attracting Bobby's attention. "Tragedy strikes the hearts of many today, as five employees working inside of the Estharian Presidential Residence were brutally murdered earlier this morning…"

Bobby leaned forward in his seat, no longer enticed by the reporter. Didn't Jack say something about being forced to work on some kind of peace project thing in the Presidential Residence?

"…The police have no comment on what took place in the early hours of the morning, but sources tell us that it was premeditated homicide." The woman continued. "Sources also tell us that a murder weapon was left behind inside one of the victims, which is the police's only clue as to who committed the crime. The police are not releasing the names of the victims who did not make it past this night until their families have been notified.

"Representatives of the Estharian Cabinet, as well as the President, had no comment on the progress of the investigation, however, it is believed that the General of the Army, Charles Orally, commandeered a plane heading out of the country, in order to pursue a lead…"

"Duh… the guy's a dipshit if he left his weapon behind." Bobby snickered.

He turned up the volume and headed off into the kitchen in search of food when the phone suddenly started ringing. Thinking that it was for Jack – nobody was dumb enough to call Bobby at this time of day - Bobby shrugged it off and opened the fridge, inspecting its contents for anything edible. The phone stopped ringing as the caller was moved to the answering machine and the tell-tale 'beep' resounded. Bobby didn't hear anything come from the caller, and figured that they hung up when the machine beeped again, cutting off the message.

Bobby had given up his search in the fridge and had begun searching the cabinets for anything to eat when the phone began to ring again. Bobby frowned deeply as he continued searching for food until it finally stopped, forwarding the call to the answering machine once again. After a moment, the phone rang a third time, and, in frustration, Bobby slammed the cabinet door shut and stalked towards the phone, grabbing the device and shouting into it. "There's such a thing as a fucking answering machine, you douchebag!"

"Finally, someone answered." A voice said on the opposite end. "I knew if I kept calling, someone'd answer eventually."

"Look." Bobby said, his face still red. "If you're callin' for Jack, he ain't here. Now go fuck yourself and leave me alone!"

"Oh, I already know Jack's not there. I was calling for you."

Bobby went to retort, but stopped, his jaw hanging open in shock. Was there really someone out there dumb enough to risk being pummelled to death and call him at almost seven in the morning? Was this guy fucking stupid? Or did he just want to die that badly?

Regaining his composure after a moment, he yelled into the phone again. "How the fuck do you know my brother's not here?"

"You just told me. Have you seen the news?"

"Yeah? So what?"

"So you heard about the murders this morning?"

"Yeah, it's all over the fucking news."

"So I guess you know that your brother was one of the ones killed."

Bobby went to open his mouth but no sound came out. He stared at the television screen before sinking into the couch positioned behind him in shock. It would explain why predictable Jack didn't leave him a note as usual, or why he hadn't used his computer in two days.

It was because he wasn't coming back.

He wondered why no one had contacted him; to let him know that his brother was dead sooner? Was it because of the investigation? Did they want to make absolutely sure that they were right? Or did he just sleep through the phone ringing like he always did late at night?

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he squeezed his eyes tightly, willing the tears back. Out of anyone in his entire life, Jack had been the only one to truly give a damn about him; to take care of him. Jack was one of the best men he knew; a straight arrow; the kinda guy you'd wanna turn out to be when you grew to be his age. He didn't deserve to die.

A guy like Bobby, who'd spent most of his days mooching off good men like Jack, and wasting the majority of their life on drugs, being pushed in and out of jail, deserved to rot in hell.

Getting up, Bobby trudged over to the fridge, having switched phones so that he was holding onto a cordless. _Jack never did like it when I took the cordless outta the room…_ he thought to himself bitterly as he opened up the refrigerator, in search for something with alcohol in it.

"Bobby? Are you still there, Bobby?"

Finding nothing suitable for his tastes, Bobby slammed the fridge door shut in disgust. "Yeah, I'm still here. Whatcha want? Ta gloat or somethin'?"

The voice on the other end chuckled. "No, Bobby, that's not what I want. I just wanted to call and let you know that they caught the bastard who killed your brother."

"Fuck him!" Bobby shouted. "He can fucking rot in hell for all I care! It won't fucking bring him back! I hope he fucking gets the death penalty."

"Well there may be a small problem with that."

"What?" Bobby asked. He wanted to know why it was that the motherfucker wasn't already frying in hell for this.

"Because he's related to the President. It's his son, actually."

Bobby cursed loudly, preparing to throw the phone across the room, but stopped himself. T_he fucking 'tard has a son? That's just messed. _

But then the thought passed, and the gears in his head started rolling. He figured that if this man seemed to know a lot about what happened and wanted to tell him everything he knew, his luck was turning up. He didn't trust the justice system that much; it never worked no matter who was in charge. Adel could still be running the country for all he knew, if guys like the fucking President's kid could get away with murdering good guys like Jack. If the system worked, then people like him would be used for fucking canon fodder.

"So he's not gonna fry then…" Bobby said, beginning to pace. "He's gonna get off Scot free, just 'coz his old man runs the country?"

"Not necessarily."

This made Bobby stop pacing. "But you just said…"

"I said it was a small problem. I didn't say it wasn't going to happen. However, it probably won't if something isn't done to right this injustice."

Bobby nodded, turning to look at a picture on the wall. It was of Jack when he'd first gotten into engineering and computer Sciences, while Bobby was just starting to get into the wrong crowds. They looked so happy at that point in time. Their parents were standing in the background, all smiles, as if nothing in the world could pull their spirits down.

And now, he was the only one left.

By all rights, he should have been the one who died, and Jack should have been the one who was still alive.

"I'm listening."

"Within the next hour, I'll have a contact that you can speak to. Meet him at the Central District, a place called 'Chip and Dale's repair shop'. He will do whatever it takes for you to get what you need to have done, no strings attached, and no matter what the law says, but it's up to you. If you don't show up within fifteen minutes of the time limit, the deal comes off the table and, most likely, the killer will walk."

Bobby's glare intensified at the picture, singling out his brother. Jack had had a whole life ahead of him before he'd come around sniffing for scraps. Jack could've been happy; living the bachelor's life and getting everything he deserved.

* * *

"Don't worry. If he ain't there in a half hour, I'll fucking do the job myself!" Bobby hung up the phone before hurling it across the room, knocking over the living room table in the process.

Christine Lockhart was reading through her the file that had been sent to her at the end of the Cabinet meeting, and she was astounded that the behavioural problems she was reading about could pertain from one individual, never mind the fact that he still could be considered an adolescent.

According to the reports SeeD had handed over during the preparation of the United Confederation, Squall Leonhart had tact for avoiding any form of human contact, from as little as working alone to as large of flat out ignoring those who were around him, pretending as though they didn't exist. This apparently started when he had first attended Garden, and had lasted throughout his adolescence.

It concerned her that anyone could be this detached from any human contact, especially at such a young age, which strengthened her belief that there was, indeed, something wrong with him mentally. Perhaps something had taken place when he was younger to force him to believe that contact with another human being was a bad thing.

Sighing to herself, Christine removed her glasses before rubbing the bridge of her nose and frowning. Other than his obvious behavioural problems, he had been a fairly attentive student in his classes; with good grades, and a high recommendation to participate in the SeeD Exam by his Instructor and Headmaster.

She was just about to skip to the end of the file when something caught her eye, forcing her to read into it. According to further reports, he seemed to have gotten into trouble repeatedly, along with another student. Raising an eyebrow, she realized that this information contradicted the earlier reports of his isolation and continued to read, soon discovering that the Garden Faculty members had dubbed him a 'problem child' from the very beginning of his stay.

Christine was no lawyer, but she knew enough to understand that this information could either help him or hurt him in a trail preceding.

Someone knocked on the door behind her, and she called for them to enter, never taking her eyes off the documents that lay before her. She was becoming increasingly intrigued by the man who was accused of murder, and this intrigue increased her certainty that speaking to him one-on-one would benefit all parties involved.

"Find anything interesting?" A familiar voice asked from behind her.

Christine couldn't help but smile.

"Only information that strengthens my resolve. If you've come to talk me out of it, you're in for one hell of a fight."

James Logans sighed, moving to stand in front of her, his arms folded across his chest. "No. I've already figured out that trying to tell you what to do is like trying to teach a Malboro how to brush its teeth. It's a lost battle."

"Then why the pleasant visit?" Christine placed the file folder onto her desk and watched the dark skinned man in front of her.

"I just thought you might want to hear something interesting?"

"So President Loire has actually come through with his threat on re-designing the security detail uniforms?"

James raised an eyebrow as Christine chuckled softly. "Do I look like I belong in the circus?"

"I believe those where his words on the subject, yes."

"I meant something interesting about the prisoner."

At this, all traces of humour left the psychiatrist's expression and she leaned forward into her desk. "I'm listening."

"I've noticed from being around him that he is a cold and uncaring individual." James explained.

"I could easily read that from his file." Christine interjected.

"However," James continued. "When placed in the same room as his girlfriend, his personality executes a complete three-sixty in character."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Shit… I forgot about that."

"You knew?" James nodded before tilting his head to the side. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

"I'm halfway done with the file, but anyone with ears would have known that. His file folder is a lot bigger and far more complex than a lot of my patients."

"Someone's slacking off," James started in a sort of sing-song voice.

"Are you here to tease me, or just to say 'I told you so'?"

James took a seat in a chair that was positioned beside her. "And if I said it was for the casual sex?"

"Then I'd assure you that you wouldn't be receiving any."

"It's a good thing I didn't say that then."

Christine frowned as James tried to appear very innocent. "The fact that he has a girlfriend throws my theory out the window."

"What? That he's suffering from some form of personality disorder that doesn't let him be around other people?" James asked before shaking his head. "Even I think that's farfetched."

Christine sighed. "Not if you read through the same reports that I have. Everything starting from a very young age and continuing on throughout his youth points to a personality disorder. There are only two instances that discredit this theory; one of which everyone knows about. The other, well, he used to get into fist fights with another cadet, and I could easily explain that one."

"So? You could easily explain that one away." James offered.

"Yes, but a romantic relationship with a girl when he avoids all other contact is going to be far more difficult."

"Then why not just admit you are wrong."

"Because honestly, I don't believe I am."

"Christine." James sighed as he took one of Christine's hands with his own. "It's alright to make mistakes about people."

"Just because you think he's guilty, doesn't necessarily mean he is."

"I never said that. I just said that the evidence against him is heavy."

"And yet he still denies that he did it. I still stand by the fact that he might have had a lapse of sanity."

"The crime was far too well planned to have been just a spur of the moment."

"Then maybe it happened on and off for a while. It is a possibility. I still maintain that I'm right and that he needs to be institutionalized."

"And if you're wrong and he is a murderer?"

"Then this interview will find out for us." Christine smiled at him, even when he frowned in response to her comment. "You've already made sure I have at least three soldiers stationed at my side in case anything happens, which I don't think will. I'll be perfectly safe, James, if that's what you're really worried about."

"I just don't like the idea of you being left in the same room as a man who, quite possibly, could have killed five people without remorse or hesitation while the soldiers are left standing outside of the room, waiting until you're done speaking to him. What if he doesn't say anything? What if he refuses to answer any of your questions?"

"If he wants to prove that he's innocent, then he'll cooperate." Christine argued. "You said it yourself; he hasn't fought back or struggled while he's been here, and he didn't fight back when the General attacked him in interrogation…"

"He was being questioned."

"Sounds more like an interrogation to me." Christine rose to her feet, James quickly following suit as she stared him down. "And if he does resist, I'll call one of the soldiers to come in and to sit with us for the duration of the interview. We still need to obtain his statement, and at best I'm the one with the best reason to."

"Just promise you'll be careful, okay?" James asked softly. "I don't want anything to happen to you, not over this. Don't try to save someone you can't possibly save, alright?"

Christine took in a deep breath before letting it out as she nodded. "Alright. I promise. I'll be a good girl and stay out of trouble."

* * *

**_7:00:00 _**


	6. Hour 6

Chapter posted: **02/11/2007**

**04/08/2007:** There was a typo when it came to the time that was quoted by someone near the end of this chapter. The mistake has been fixed. Sorry about that folks.

* * *

_**The following takes place between 7am and 8am.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

* * *

He was standing inside of the office he used for his cabinet associated duties, acting as though he were working on something important. He'd purposed locked the door so that he would not be disturbed, despite knowing how suspicious it would appear, but he couldn't afford to be interrupted. He sat behind his desk, absently biting his nails as he waited for a very important phone call. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he looked at his hand in disgust before grabbing a nearby tissue and wiping his hand free of the saliva. Nail biting was a nervous habit of his and it was harder to quit that then to quit smoking.

He checked his watch; just after seven. He had made the call almost an hour ago, and his contact had stated he'd need time to prepare. Frowning, he contemplating calling back when his cell phone vibrated; a prelude to when it would sound the ring tone. He picked it up before that could happen, speaking in a hushed voice in case anyone where to wander by. "What took you so long?"

The voice on the opposite end chuckled lightly. "If this had been your wife, you would have had some explaining to do."

Harold growled deep in his throat, like an animal protecting its territory. "That is none of your concern. Is it done?"

"It is." The voice answered. "He's taken to the bait like a cat to a dangling mouse. He's meeting me in thirty minutes."

"Took you long enough to prepare," Harold stated sarcastically.

"Hey, I do run a business you know." The voice shot back, but there was no venom. "Not everything revolves around you, Harold."

"Just let me know when he's on his way." Harold said. The voice acknowledged the order before disconnecting the call.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. He had just received word from the so-called Director, Jared, that the President of Galbadia was sending their evidence to Dollet instead of to Esthar as he had originally planned. It didn't really mean anything; the frame-up on Leonhart was only meant to be temporary after all, but it would be annoying if a third party came into the conflict having seen what was on those tapes and knowing of his innocence.

He'd have to work fast before that were to happen; of course because of Leonhart's obvious stupidity he was running behind schedule and that wasn't good. If his latest plan worked, it would be too late by the time Dollet became involved.

Picking up the phone, he dialled a specific number, put the headpiece to his ear and, for the first time since he began this alternative plot, he smiled.

* * *

He had moved from his spot in the Quad as soon as he had heard the announcement on the PA reminding the cadets that it was passed curfew. He knew it would be risky to move around while everyone was heading back to their dorms or the Training Center, but he couldn't stay where he was for very much longer; not without the administrators in Garden spotting him. So he managed to duck into the Infirmary, thankful that Kadowaki had gone to bed early and that there were no injured patients staying over night.

After waiting for a few minutes, he moved out of the room, keeping to the wall to make sure the camera situated near the ceiling in a corner furthest from the door didn't spot him. Upon reaching the sliding doors, he looked out into the hallway, finding no one around and made his way to the Training Center. He knew at this time of hour the diligent students would be training on the easier route, and that there would be one or two people in the secret area breaking curfew. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence; just an aggravating one.

Upon arriving at the Training Center, he took the right path, knowing he would have to be careful in order to avoid encountering monsters and the like – he couldn't afford to draw any attention to himself; not at this stage of the game. So he moved with quiet and calculated steps, moving over the wooden makeshift bridge positioned atop of the pond leading back out into the hallways of the garden, and continuing around a bend, noting that the monsters in the area were keeping their distance and not really caring much about it.

He made it to the secret area, making perfectly sure that there wasn't anyone within sighting distance and looked inside, finding a group of cadets huddled together, as if they were trying to keep warm. He frowned at this sight; it was boiling hot in the Training Center and that same heat leaked out into the secret area; they should be plenty warm. Not liking where this was going, he moved inside, thankful that this room had some means of tampering off the humidity of the Monster's Den, and, leaning against the furthest walls in the shadows, he tried to pick up as much as he possibly could.

From the sounds of it, they weren't doing anything that he'd become accustomed to finding (even if it was to his aggravation), and his frown deepened; it wasn't like the Garden at all. Instead, he was hearing more static; like they were watching or listening to something, but he couldn't tell what from where he was. He shifted his position slightly; still keeping in the dark and out of sight, but trying to get a better look at what they were huddled against. No one even heard him; probably too attuned to whatever it was they were staring at.

After a moment, he recognized a small device sitting on the ground in front of the group, and a small girl with brown hair – he couldn't tell much else since it was dark – wearing the cadet uniform fiddling with the antennae sticking out of it. After a moment, the girl started talking. "There; finally found a good frequency."

She looked back at the other cadets and smiled – he could tell they all looked bored – but the expression faded upon seeing their impatience and she quickly turned back to the radio before speaking. "Tell me; can anyone understand this?"

After a moment, voices sounded from the radio, but it wasn't the standard common or Balambi stations he had heard throughout the last two months. Instead, the language was foreign; he could tell just by looking at them all that no one could tell what they were saying. Hell, he could barely pick out words, but only because he hadn't had the chance to study up on the language itself.

Esthari.

"Didn't think so," the girl said before pulling something out of her pocket. It was small and metallic looking; it didn't look like very much and from the expressions of the other students, he doubted they were very impressed. "My grandma sent it to me when she went on her trip to Esthar about a month ago. I haven't had the time to figure out what it does – what with all the testing going on – but I just tested it yesterday. It is _so_ cool."

"Looks like a piece of shrapnel to me." One of the boys crouching behind her said. "We have more important things to do!"

"Yeah, I know; I just want to demonstrate what it does." The girl protested. "Trust me; I didn't get you all to break curfew just to waste your time. Not that you wouldn't have done it anyway."

"Then just get it over with, Caroline." Another girl said.

"Fine," the girl, Caroline muttered, before attaching the piece to the radio. He raised an eyebrow when he realized that it fit perfectly. "Now listen."

The room became silent, except for the radio and he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. Then he realized it already did; the jargon of Esthari from the radio had switched drastically to common – he could understand everything the DJ was saying over the radio.

_Impressive,_ he thought to himself, even as one of the students rose to their feet.

"_This_ is what you called us out for?" another boy asked. "To show us some messed up piece of metal that can change a radio frequency?"

"It didn't change anything!" Caroline shot back. "It's translating the Estharian speakers from their language into one that everyone can understand."

"… It is now six minutes after seven in the morning, and now its time …"

"See? It's after 2300 here in Balamb. Obviously it can't be that early in the morning." Caroline said, even as the student's scepticism disappeared.

He snorted in response, keeping the noise down as much as possible. Stupid brats.

"I wanna know what that Estharian song I like is really saying!" One girl shouted after a moment of dulled silence!

"No! Let's snoop on what's going on in Esthar's Presidential Residence!"

"Can we break into open air frequencies with this thing?"

He rolled his eyes and was about to leave – thinking about how he'd wasted precious time on something so useful that was going to be wasted – but he stopped when he heard Caroline shush them all, apparently having heard something. "Shut up…listen."

"What now?" another girl asked, and she was shushed.

"…on a recap of today's story; authorities are still investigating the intrusion of the Presidential Residence early in this morning. Five were killed in the attack and miraculously enough no one was injured in the process; making everyone suspect the perpetrator was a hired assassin."

"Talk about shitty security…" someone muttered. They were immediately shushed.

"No one from the Presidential Residence is issuing a statement at this point in time, but sources say they suspect that SeeD's hand was involved in this."

"What?" a girl shouted, even as the broadcast continued.

"No way! SeeD wasn't involved; we wouldn't have left any evidence!"

"What about the United Confederation? We wouldn't jeopardize that!"

Everyone started talking at once in hurried raised voices and he took that as his cue to leave. He figured that the noise was going to attract unwanted attention, but even if they'd been whispering he'd heard all that he needed to. Leaving the Secret Area, he moved into a set of nearby bushes, waiting until everyone left before he could make a call. It didn't look like _that_ was going to happen anytime soon.

_The Garden knows what's happening…_ he thought to himself, frowning. _Soon everyone's going to be up in arms about this. Fucking hell, we're screwed._

He was about to see whether the rugrats were ready to leave when he caught movement from nearby and moved out of sight once again. When the figure came out of hiding, he recognized it as a member of the administrative board that Garden had formed after the war. The woman had dark hair and was wearing the issued SeeD uniform. From what he could remember, she was also the acting supervisor over the Disciplinary Committee the Garden had formed.

He frowned when he spotted her moving into the Secret Area, hearing her voice raise over that of the students who had been caught red handed before the students had started up again, asking questions they shouldn't possibly have been asking.

Sighing, with everything he had seen within the last few minutes, the shit had just hit the fan.

* * *

**7:09:11**

* * *

It hadn't taken Bobby more than ten minutes to get himself cleaned up and out of the house. He no longer cared about any other plans he'd made that day; they could take a back seat he had important business to take care.

Checking his watch, he figured that he was making good time; it was only ten after eleven in the morning. He still had a good thirty minutes to make it to the shop, but he figured the sooner he arrived, the sooner they could get down to business.

After finishing getting himself ready, he had gone straight to the parking lot to unleash his hover-cycle – a birthday present from Jack – and had taken to the streets of Esthar like a man possessed. He had barely been on the road for fifteen minutes before he had gotten off the highway, returning to the side streets and keeping an eye on street signs in case he missed his turn.

Finally, he made the turn into the Eastern Sector and located the repair shop easily enough. It looked like a seedy place; the letter 'C' in Chip hanging off and looking as though it was ready to fall off. Bobby ignored it – he'd been to enough seedy bars to be used to the outward appearance – and entered the shop.

Inside the shop were mostly display cases of items that had been turned to the owners of the shop since they were pretty much garbage. Bobby remembered knowing someone in the repair business – whatever was given to him because he couldn't' fix it got remade and redone and resold. He'd get all the profits and the original owner wouldn't be the wiser. The ironic thing was he had been busted on charges of tax fraud. The cops didn't even find out about what he was doing.

The walls were plastered with pictures – probably a themed place – and the ceilings had some trippy looking light fixtures. He'd only seen them in magazines that were published outside of Esthar and figured that whoever owned them must have paid two arms, a leg and a torso for 'em.

"Can I help you?"

Bobby jumped in surprise – he hadn't thought anyone was there – and turned to the direction of the voice, finding an unshaven man wearing the Estharian robes standing behind the cash register. He stared at him wearily, as if expecting him to steal anything he could get his hands on.

Keeping his mind on business, Bobby shook his head. "I'm meeting someone here."

The expression on the man's face changed and he pressed a button underneath his shelf. At first, Bobby thought he'd been set up; that whoever had called him had sent him there to be the fall-guy of a drug charge. He couldn't go to jail knowing that the fucker who killed his brother was about to get off.

All he heard, however, was the click of the door locking behind him.

Thoroughly confused, Bobby scratched the back of his head as the man behind the register smiled at him. "You're right on time. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dale Wilkins."

"So where's Chip?" Bobby joked and the man's grin widened.

"Got done in when he tried to get me arrested." Dale stated in a tone that held no humour. Bobby's smile dropped almost immediately and he swallowed hard.

"Sorry. Didn't know."

"That's quite alright." Dale simply said. "No one does actually. The man's family has been looking for him for three weeks now."

Dale pulled up the side bar that prohibited customer access to the back room and gestured for Bobby to enter. "By all means, come on in."

Bobby tried very hard to make himself appear tougher than he felt, hoping that he would be able to intimidate this man the way he felt intimidated and walked through the opening, allowing Dale to lead him into the back room and hoping that he hadn't been set up for an ambush.

Dale pushed aside the beads that were in the doorway and as Bobby followed suit, began to speak. "You're brother worked for the government, right?"

Bobby was taken aback by the sudden question but once he found his voice he answered the question. "Yeah. He was an engineer. Set to retire in ten to fifteen."

"You two were very close, correct?"

Bobby didn't know if he liked Dale asking questions about Jack. Dale was a seedy type; looked like he might be involved in some deep illegal shit. When Bobby got clean he promised himself and Jack that he wouldn't meddle with people like him ever again, and now look where he was. "Yeah, we were. Behaviour wise but we had different moms. What's it to you?"

Dale simply smiled. "I'm just curious. I don't know how your brother died –"

"He fucking died because some asshole broke into the Residence last night and murdered him, that's how." Bobby could feel his blood boil at the memory but struggled to contain his temper.

Dale looked surprised for a moment. "You're brother was involved in that? Terribly sorry, I didn't realize. I thought that he might have been poisoned. Was he dirty?"

This was the second time Dale had caught Bobby off guard. "What?"

"I'm asking if he was taking bribes under the table and doing anything illegal." Dale clarified and the thought of someone accusing straight arrow Jack of committing a felony made Bobby sick. "Did he deal drugs? Lead a gang? Embezzle money, commit fraud, that sort of thing."

"Why would that have anything to do with it?" Bobby asked through clenched teeth.

"Just trying to gage why it was your brother was targeted." Dale answered simply. "I want to understand who it is that I am dealing with here. I wouldn't want a backlash because I messed with the wrong person, now would I?"

Bobby couldn't believe this. This man had the balls to accuse Jack of criminal activity and then to say that he was too chickenshit to do anything about it if he had. He found himself feeling deep hatred for the man standing in front of him at the moment. People like him used people like Jack everyday just to make it big. Jack had busted his ass everyday for the kind of lifestyle he had, and now he wouldn't be able to enjoy the perks of retirement.

"Was he into prostitution?" Dale asked. "Don't worry; I won't tell anyone, it's just that—"

By then, Bobby had heard enough. Grabbing Dale by the scruff of the robe, he hefted the man up and pinned him to the wall, glaring at him in the eye through a haze of red. "Jack was a good honest man!" He exclaimed. "He went to work, he did his part for his country and he put up with fucking losers like me his whole life! Even _after_ he moved out he still put up with my shit, and what does he fucking get in return? He gets murdered because someone didn't like what he was working on; this fucking United Confederation shit that's been on the news for Hyne knows how fucking long! So don't you fucking insinuate that my brother was a bad guy, 'coz he wasn't! If anyone deserved to live then it was Jack!"

Bobby expected Dale to snap his fingers and for his goons to suddenly come out of nowhere and to beat him to a bloody pulp, but he didn't care. No one would ever get away with talking badly about his older brother. Not while he was still able to breathe.

Instead, Dale just started to chuckle, which made Bobby even angrier. "Something funny, bitch?"

"I must apologize." Dale said. "I was just gauging how far you would go to preserve your brother's memory. I'm sorry for tainting it as I have."

Bobby was so shocked that he released his grip on Dale's collar and allowed the man to fall to the ground. Dale landed on his feet and appeared as though the entire exchange had never occurred. Bobby figured that Dale either had nerves of steal or he was fucking stupid.

"You see," Dale continued, unaware of Bobby's mental musings. "I get people who come here all the time, spouting how much they want to avenge their loved ones; be it friend, lover or significant other. But very few of those people are willing to go the extra mile to back up their words. You, Robert Anderson, have proven that you are not one of those pathetic has-beens"

"How do you know my name?" Bobby asked. He hadn't heard anyone say his full name since he lived with his father.

"I received information about you; from a man who said he had contacted you." Dale said. "Don't worry. I don't know much else than your name and your reasons for coming here. Since you have proven that you would do anything to avenge your brother's death, we can skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase. You are aware that what we are plotting is considered conspiring to commit murder, correct?"

Bobby wanted his brother's killer to fry, but he hadn't imagined that he would have to kill the guy himself. He'd done a lot of rotten things in his life, but not once had he actually murdered anyone, especially not in cold blood. But he knew that Jack was mercilessly killed by the fucker and that the murderer deserved no better than death. Nodding in answer to Dale's question, he allowed the other man to continue.

"Good. Then let's get down to business."

* * *

He was awakened roughly when something pushed at his forehead. Realizing that he had drifted off unintentionally, he jerked his eyes opened and forced himself into a sitting position. There wasn't anyone else in the cell, so that had to mean the perpetrator had to be next to him.

He looked over, expecting to see Lenny with some kind of bandage around his nose from where he'd broken it, but instead he found he was staring at another inmate; he had blonde hair and brown eyes cut fairly short and was wearing the same uniform. It wasn't until he caught sight of the snake tail trailing down the guy's neck and down his left arm, where his sleeve was rolled up, and the head marked along the left side of his face.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he realized that this was the man who had originally been across from him; who'd lied in order to get him out of trouble. He hadn't appreciated the gesture; he would have faced the consequences of his actions after all.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinkin'," the man said. "And yeah, I was originally across from you. But Lenny aluva sudden wanted to trade cells. The guards still can't figure out why though. But it's our lil' secret. Isn't that right, Butch?"

He had raised his voice for Butch to hear him and Squall caught him nodding his head furiously, seemingly attempting to mind his own business.

The man had nodded back, but hadn't said anything and Squall voiced one of the thoughts that rose in his mind, is voice giving away his irritation. "Can I help you?"

"You were talking in your sleep." The man stated simply. "Just thought I'd wake you up."

Frowning slightly, Squall recalled Rinoa saying something about him doing that sort of thing, but after a couple of months, they figured that it only happened when he was stressed out or thinking about something. Basically, whenever he didn't beat himself into exhaustion in the training center.

But the fact that he could have said anything vitally important to Garden was unnerving in itself. "What exactly was it that I said?"

The man simply shrugged. "Don't know. You were talking in a different language. I've lived here in Esthar my whole life. I could tell from before that you weren't from around here; your accent's different."

Squall pulled himself up into a complete sitting position and the stranger must have taken that as an invitation because he sat down right beside him, despite the bars separating the two. "You're new here, right? Name's Riley Donaldson."

He extended his hand outward through the bars, probably expecting the teenager to shake it. Squall simply did what he always did; stared at the hand before staring at the man who offered it.

Eventually, Riley took the hint and simply shrugged in response. "Saw what you did to Lenny. Never seen anyone with reflexes that fast."

When Squall didn't respond, Riley continued. "Heard what happened when they tried to reposition his nose; he cried like a lil' kid. But eh… it happens I guess. And don't worry 'bout Butch too much. He talks big, but he's a fucking pussy. Got busted for attempted murder."

Squall raised an eyebrow and Riley laughed. "I know what you're thinkin'. A big guy like that was only caught for attempted. That's what I thought too. But rumour has it that as soon as he cut his victim, he fainted from the blood he saw. That's what the guards say at least."

"I'm not one for rumours." Squall stated simply, hoping to stop the conversation.

"You're not much of a talker, either." It wasn't a question.

When Squall didn't respond, Riley simply shrugged. "Ah, it's alright. I'm told I do enough talking for ten people."

_Hyne, what did I ever do to you?_ Squall thought to himself.

"What're you in for?" Riley asked all of a sudden.

"None of your business."

"Figured you'd say that." When Squall glanced up at him, Riley chuckled slightly. "Pretty much everyone I ask tells me that. You'd think I'd learn after a while, huh?

"Aw well. It don't matter." Riley shrugged and lay back so that his legs rested off the side of the bed. "That's okay. 'Spose most people don't like talking about getting caught doing something wrong. But I'm different. See, I was set up. Maybe an innocent guy likes to ask more questions than people who did commit a crime."

Squall raised an eyebrow and Riley sat up slightly. "I can tell you're interested in hearing me out. Tell ya what. Tell me yours and I'll tell ya mine."

Squall's frown deepened. He figured that Riley really wanted to talk and that he wouldn't take the hint like everyone else and leave him alone. What was wrong with mentally brooding in peace anyway? Sure he didn't like to think a lot, but it was better than putting up with extroverted talkative morons.

Sighing, he figured that if he answered this one question maybe, just maybe, Riley would get bored of talking to him and go bother someone else. "Whatever."

This time, Riley sat straight up. "Really? Didn't actually expect you to agree. Not too many people do in this place."

Upon receiving a sour look from the teenager, Riley put his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture. "Okay, okay. Wrong thing to say; I get it. So, what you in for?"

"Murder." Squall said simply.

Riley stared at him for a minute. "You don't look like the murdering type. Lemme guess… you're one of those quiet guys who snapped when someone came along and talked your ear off."

Squall stared at him for a second before Riley burst out laughing. "Kidding. I'm just yanking your chain. Relax and act your age. You're still in high school, ain't ya?"

The SeeD wasn't about to tell him his whole life's story, so he opted to simply agree with the estimation. "Just graduated actually."

"Guess you're a little older than I thought." Riley said. "Anyways, you were saying? Who'd you kill?"

"I didn't kill anyone."

Riley blinked in confusion. "But you said you were brought here for murder. That doesn't make any sense, unless…" he appeared thoughtful for a minute before suddenly staring at him. "You got set up too?"

When Squall nodded, Riley whistled. "Damn, sucks to be us, don't it? Guess my estimation was wrong. You _didn't_ wanna say anything and you _didn't_ do anything."

"And you believe me." Squall deadpanned. Riley nodded in response.

"Sure do. No one believed me either, just so we're clear. I used to be in the military, until a group of friends that I knew decided that they wanted some extra cash. I didn't tag along or nuthin', but when I got to the shop, they just handed me a bag. Then the cops showed up, and I found out that the store manager'd been killed. They checked the bag I had and inside it was nearly two grand and a gun. They matched the bullet and arrested me soon after. Didn't report my friends 'coz I figured they'd needed the money for something. Didn't wanna get them in trouble."

"And now you're stuck here." Squall stated and Riley shrugged.

"They come and visit every week." Riley explained. "Always sayin' they're sorry about it and that they're definitely gonna make it up to me when my sentence is up. Just gotta wait for another year to go by before I get a chance for parole. Already served seven as it is."

"What about the surveillance tapes?" Squall asked. "Wouldn't they have figured you were lying?"

"I'd already confessed." Riley said. "They decided they didn't need to look at them."

It sounded pretty stupid to Squall, but then he wondered exactly what he would have done had he been in the same position. He couldn't quite imagine any of his friends committing robbery and then letting him take the fall for it, though a mildly humorous mental picture of Irvine, Selphie and Zell wearing ski masks and holding up a bank almost had him crack a smile.

Almost.

Suddenly, both Riley and Squall heard footsteps heading towards their vicinity and they exchanged glances. "Probably just a guard." Riley waved off. "Sometimes they come by and chat us up, but that's only if we run into the nice guys."

Squall nodded, though the footsteps themselves didn't sound like a guard leisurely making his rounds. It sounded almost as if the man in uniform was heading specifically towards something, as though he either had to search for something or was ordered to find someone. The footsteps got louder until he saw a shadow poking along the wall where he couldn't see the figure and finally the guard made his appearance, the familiar Estharian soldier uniform standing out against the dank grey of the cell.

The soldier stopped in front of the cell before finally speaking. "Leonhart, you've got a visitor."

Squall simply shrugged. He was trying not to get his hopes up by telling himself that it was probably someone else to interrogate him for the crime. He even tried to convince himself that it was because they hadn't obtained his statement yet, which could have been possible, though the possibility it could be one of the others was still rooted in the back of his mind.

Pulling himself off the bunk, he saw Riley stare up at him in shock. He didn't need to look around to know that Butch and Lenny had heard the soldier and were now staring at him. "Leonhart?" Riley asked after a moment. "As in the SeeD who saved all our asses? You told me you were in high school."

"You asked if I were in high school." Squall corrected as he moved towards the guard. "I told you I graduated. I never gave you a direct answer."

The guard replaced the handcuffs around the teenager's wrists before opening the cell and allowing him to step out, slamming the barred door shut behind him.

* * *

Bobby found himself back on the road, on his way to the Prison sector of Esthar. Though he knew the killer was being held in the Residence, he knew there were other ways of making his way inside.

He recalled the details of the plan, knowing that it almost appeared to be too simple, but being grateful for it all the same. The simpler the operation was, the less likely someone would muck it up. He never did deal well with complicated themes anyway.

Pulling out his cellular phone (another present from Jack), he flipped the top open and accessed his pictures, all the while levelling out the bike and keeping an eye on the road. As he searched his phone's saved memory, he cut off a driver who had been about to make a right turn, and had the audacity to flip him off as the driver showed him his outrage by leaning on his car horn. Other than the obscene gesture, Bobby ignored it as he finally found what he was looking for.

It was the rare picture he kept saved on his phone at all times, and thinking back on it, he was grateful he had chosen to do so. There stood Jack at a New Years party, wearing a party had and still dressed in the Estharian robes. He was smiling; as if he was having a good time. Bobby couldn't remember too clearly; he had let himself loose and had gotten drunk that night, though from both of their dispositions the following morning, Bobby could tell that Jack had done the same.

"Don't worry Jack," he whispered to the phone, even though he knew the man he was directing his thoughts to couldn't hear him. "I'll make your killer pay, and then you can finally rest in peace."

Slapping the phone off and stashing it into his pocket, Bobby continued down the road, wanting to give Jack an ending he so rightfully deserved.

* * *

When she had arrived at the holding area of the Presidential Residence, she had been told that it would take a few minutes to retrieve the prisoner, and had given her a window of fifteen to thirty minutes. She figured that it was due to the fact that most prisoners tried to take the opportunity to escape while the guards were distracted, and while they were busy trying to stop them, the prisoner they were originally sent to bring in decided to use the distraction to his advantage. Christine wouldn't have been surprised if they had told her her assumptions were correct.

It had only been twenty minutes of waiting when the guards entered, presumably with the man she needed to question. But when she took a look at the prisoner, she couldn't help but be surprised at how young he looked. He barely appeared to be in his late teens, though she had her doubts that he was even that old. He had dark hair and light eyes, and a scar etched between them, crossing over the bridge of his nose. She would have been surprised about the scar, had she not read about it in his file. She had known that he had only just turned eighteen two months prior, but knowing something and actually seeing it for herself were apparently two different scenarios in this case. He looked less able to commit murder than a bird looked like it could swim.

He sat down across from her and the guard mentioned something about standing outside and waiting for them to be finished. She had kept her expression impassive, trying to mask her surprise and to begin with her assessment. Nodding her assent, the guards left them, the loud click of the door sliding shut behind them nearly echoing in the near silent room.

His hands were bound together by handcuffs, but judging by his demeanour and expression, he wasn't planning to do anything. Though she knew he was a SeeD, she wanted to have the assessment come across as a simple conversation; for her own nerves if not his. She didn't want to come across as interrogating a teenage boy and she had never thought of herself as a bully. So instead, she placed the manila folder she had brought with her aside and clasped her hands on top of the table in front of her.

Squall simply stared back at her.

"Well now," Christine said, finally finding her voice. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He didn't answer her and she took it as her cue to begin. "I've already read your file, so I won't recite to you details of which you already know of. I'd just like to ask you a few questions."

Again, he said nothing.

_This file has him pegged dead on_, Christine thought to herself. Never had she been around anyone who hadn't uttered a single word within five minutes of their meeting. The only exception she could think of was James, but she hadn't been assessing his mental capacity. "Do you mind telling me how you got that scar?" She asked.

"A training exercise." Was the answer.

_And so he speaks._ She continued to prevent her thoughts from showing before moving onto the next question. "And do you still harbour any ill will towards the person who gave you this scar?"

"I know why you're here."

Christine blinked. "Pardon?"

"You're here to assess my mental competency." Squall stated, as though she hadn't asked her question. "To see if I'm fit to stand trial. Am I wrong?"

Christine frowned slightly. She had heard that he was an intelligent individual, but being able to see through what it is she was doing as quickly as he had was very impressive. Finally, she managed to force herself to answer. "No. No you're not."

"You have some doubts about whether or not I wilfully killed those people." Squall continued and again she was caught off guard. "You think that I'm suffering from some kind of debilitating illness that has superseded my judgement, possibly for months on end, and you want to prove it by going through a mental assessment. Once again, am I wrong?"

It had only been five minutes, and yet she found herself intrigued by this man. He wasn't even in his twenties and he was able to read her like a book when most people had trouble thinking of the number she was thinking about. Sighing and shaking her head once again, Christine smiled. "You surprise me. I didn't expect you to catch on so quickly. And it's not because I think you're stupid either. Most individuals I speak with have a hard time reading my motives and they've known me for years now. I would tell you that I'm also here to obtain information about your whereabouts the night of the murders, but I'm guessing you figured that out already."

When Squall nodded, Christine found that she was no longer surprised. Opening her folder, she retrieved a note pad and a pen and set the paper in front of her, preparing to write. "So I'm guessing we should skip the guessing games and get right to it then."

* * *

**7:31:25**

* * *

Douglas O'Ryan was just heading towards the front desk, preparing to sign himself in. He was tall and well built, keeping in shape for his occupation, and possessed greying dark hair fashioned into a crew cut. He hadn't shaved that morning, afraid that he would have been late for work, so stubble marked his features. It itched like hell, but he couldn't be bothered to really care at that moment.

His features always set into a darkened frown, most of the guards who passed him by did so very quickly, aware of his fragile temper. O'Ryan had been a member of the Estharian Prison Unit for a total of forty years now; his time occurring both before and after the Sorceress War twenty years prior. Before Adel was thrown from power, had anyone asked him about his job, there would have been nothing but good things for him to say and there would have been no hesitation in his response.

_And now look at me,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _I'm stuck babysitting a bunch of holding-cell rejects. _

Before the end of Adel's reign, O'Ryan had been the Warden of the Highest Security Level Prison in the Country, but when she was booted out and a new President had been elected into office, people were suddenly being shuffled out of their jobs – all for some of the tiniest violations of the twisted new regulations set in place. Most of the people who were either demoted or were forcibly retired had been people O'Ryan had worked along side of for years and had even respected and it wasn't soon afterwards when he too joined the long line of demotees.

_The President's too much of a softy for his own Hyne-Damned good._

His eyes narrowed as his thoughts began to turn dark. He didn't believe that any of the morons who had ended up behind these bars had any rights whatsoever – hell, the forfeited them when they broke the law – but now that it was illegal to beat on a prisoner, he couldn't vent his frustrations towards them, and they had begun to get way mouthier over the last two decades. What pissed him off the most was the fact that the prisoners who were serving their time during Adel's reign had been set free almost immediately afterwards for lack of evidence towards their crimes. The ones who had died before that time were suddenly being honoured as heroes for their cause.

In O'Ryan's very pointed opinion, the system had failed when the Resistance had messed everything up. Now the remaining believing members of the old regime were reduced to meeting in private, undisclosed locations – the damned Estharians couldn't arrest them for worshiping the true leader of Esthar, but most of Adel's loyal followers had already been put away for conspiring against the current President – not like he didn't deserve it for what he'd done to Esthar already.

"Stupid blow heart," he found himself muttering. "Esthar, the strongest and most powerful country in the world with an army that could take out millions of its enemies, reduced to hiding from our Galbadian enemies for the last seventeen years."

The Adelists had taken it as a personal blow to their already dampened pride when their Intel reported on the President's plan to suddenly disappear, but when they discovered that the Government had hired SeeD to finish off Esthar's real leader while she was merely recovering from being in stasis for so damned long, they had become rightfully angry. The fact that they had succeeded only made them angrier.

But even as he was sinking ever deeper into his hate-filled thoughts, his cellular phone rang. Picking it up out of habit, he checked the number, figuring that it was probably just his wife checking in on him – nowadays she was always complaining about their lack of time together – but even as he was moving to ignore it, he recognized the number as a close friend of his. Choosing to answer immediately, he flipped the phone open and placed the earpiece to his ear. "Yes?" he asked simply.

There was silence as he continued towards the front desk, and O'Ryan's voice filled it up once again after a few seconds. "Of course I'll let him in. For a new inmate, you said? Okay. I'll personally escort him into the building myself. Of course it'll be discreet. I'll call you when he's arrived."

O'Ryan hung up the phone in slightly better spirits than before. There was even a little spring to his step as he made his way towards the front desk. So some punk had gotten himself arrested and was going to be taken out by a friend of a friend? The thought that he would be involved made it seem even more surreal.

Nevertheless, he was willing to do something in order to help his comrades. Hell, if it struck a cord with the President, it would make him even happier.

Quickly grabbing his punch-card, he shoved it into the mechanical machine before turning to look at the man at the front desk, his small smile fading slightly. Robbie Higgins was one of the morons that had been chosen to be hired – one of the happy-go-lucky chumps he was forced to work with. He was one of the scrawnier chumps he had to work with; short dark hair combed back to look professional and his uniform immaculate and tidy. He looked like a fucking reporter for fuck sakes.

Given any day of the week, he would have punched his fucking teeth down his throat if his actions weren't under threat of him being fired and charged with assault – it sure would make him feel better.

Instead, he plastered a fake smile to his face, knowing he had to play nice with the chumps. One demotion was bad enough after all.

"So what's new, Robbie?" he asked in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. Made him want to gag – thinking on what he was doing now.

"You don't watch the news, do you?" Higgins asked, looking up at him with trust in his eyes. In O'Ryan's opinion, trust was for people who were willing to throw their lives to the wolves. "There's a new inmate assigned to this cellblock. He's here for holding till preparations for his trial in Dollet are set up."

"'Course I watch the news." O'Ryan said. "And that sounds an awful like the killer that got those guys in the Residence this morning."

"You guessed it." Higgins said, nodding. "Apparently, it's one of the SeeDs who took out Adel and the Sorceress in the future."

This bit of news caught O'Ryan off guard and he stopped in his tracks, even as Robbie continued. "He's been questioned and everything. All we have to do is hold him here till the officials in Dollet are ready for him to be sent there."

Swivelling back around, O'Ryan moved back over to the desk, wondering if his birthday had come early this year. "Which one is it?" He asked. He already knew it was a boy, and according to rumours, there had been three of them on the team, and out of them, only two of them were SeeD.

"Think it was Leonhart. The one who led the charge."

O'Ryan's grin widened and he didn't even bother to thank Higgins for making his day. He made his way immediately towards the change rooms in order to get changed for work. The person being let in – he was there in order to take the little punk out – the one responsible for Adel's death – the one who fucked up every contingency plan the Adelists had ever thought up in the event that Adel was to return to them.

The fact that he was part of it no longer seemed surreal. It was more like a dream come true.

Opening his cell phone, he dialled a specific number. He had a role to play in this now – one that was worth more than what that soft Government was paying him – and he wanted to do it right.

* * *

Finally emerging from his office, Harold moved through the throngs of workers, heading towards the room the council used for meetings. According to what Jared had just told him, Lockhart was questioning the so-called murderer, and she was just about through, so the cabinet had to get ready to hear what she had to say.

Harold didn't know why they were bothering getting ready; she still had to make a standard report on her findings, so all they'd be doing is waiting.

He stopped suddenly; nearly breaking out into a cold sweat and cutting off another woman who looked as though she'd only just arrived to work. She gave him the cut eye before moving on, as if trying to purposely ignore him. Harold couldn't bring himself to care; having thought of a possible reason. Could they suspect him as a traitor? That he was working to frame up Leonhart for their own purposes? He had been careful; exceedingly so, there was just no way…

With much difficulty, he forced himself to calm down. Of course they didn't suspect; he had worked with the Estharian cabinet for the last ten years. He was nowhere on their suspicions radars, and soon it really wouldn't matter.

His cell phone vibrated and he picked it up before it could ring, placing the device against his ear. "Yes?"

"He's heading your way." The voice said on the opposite end.

"And the preparations?"

"Relax. Everything that is connected to Anderson is being removed. In a few minutes, according to Esthar's databases, consider 'Chip & Dale's Repair Shop' having never existed."

Harold breathed a sigh of relief and continued his path towards the office. "Good. No connection to your shop means they can't trace any of this back to me, even if something does go wrong. Perfect. Just as I expected."

"But of course," Dale answered on the opposite end. "So, are you really planning on having him killed?"

Harold knew exactly who Dale was talking about, and chose his words carefully; he couldn't afford to be overheard. "No. That isn't necessary."

"Then why did you send Anderson after him?"

"Just a momentary distraction." Harold explained. "Whatever the case, he is very important to this operation; we need to ensure that nothing goes wrong. In fact; nothing can happen to the twerp."

"Understood." Dale said. "I'll pass the message along."

"Good. See to it that you do." Harold hung up the phone.

* * *

As she was being checked out of the visitors section of the holding station, Christine couldn't help but look back, somehow expecting a barrage of soldiers to appear; a prison break having been orchestrated by none other than the SeeD she had just been speaking with. Instead, she was greeted by a rather normal sight; the guards stationed just outside of the exit doors were at attention and one of them nodded to her in silent farewell. Sighing and mentally chastising herself, she turned back around and continued on her way, back towards her office.

It wasn't that she didn't believe him; in fact, many times during their talk, he had nearly convinced her of his innocence. But it was the way he had answered all of her questions – no expression ever passed across his features that would give away what he was thinking; his voice devoid of anything that would give himself or his motives away. It had felt as though she had been talking to a computer; a program that had been designed specifically for eluding and evading psychological questions. Each and every time she had tried to analyze him mentally, he would put up some kind of a mental barrier and steer the conversation back to the topic at hand.

She had analyzed many patients before; both willing and unwilling to cooperate, but never had she had this much trouble.

She recalled the ending of their conversation; just when she had managed to scrap together information that would serve both purposes of her visit. He had turned to her and told her that she was the kind of person who wanted to gage reactions and responses in order to perceive their personal views; to see things in their perspective, but that she also wanted to accomplish her goals and tasks set to her through simple textbook examples. In her shock, he had followed up, telling her that her profession did not approve of relating to a patient, of which they say was a logistical error. He had then told her point blank that even in life she could only concentrate on one or the other in order to get by.

_Throughout the meeting, not only was he keeping himself closed off while answering questions pertaining to the statement, he was analyzing me while I was attempting to analyze him._ Christine though in her daze as she rounded the corner. _Not even the best profilers could possibly do it _that _well._

Even so, from what little she received from her psychological analyzes, she was almost certain that he was innocent; that he hadn't come all the way to Esthar in any kind of vehicle, kill the workers in the Presidential Residence and return to Deling in order to orchestrate a mission of importance to the Galbadian Government. However, she was also very certain that he should never have been eligible to train as a SeeD, no matter how good at the job he was.

_Actually, the fact that he's _this _good at what he does is a bit disconcerting._ Christine amended.

Adding her current findings to what she had gathered from his childhood, Christine was confident that turning such a troubled and withdrawn child into a mercenary for hire was just asking for trouble. Though true that he had protected the world from a Sorceress hell-bent on destroying it, it was a fact that, eventually, he would melt down and fall victim to any of the corresponding mental disturbances she had ever run into; that is if he hadn't already.

Getting her mind back on track, she thought over the information she had received through the questioning and found that a lot of it did make sense. First, there was the distance between Galbadia and Esthar; not even an Estharian aircraft would have been capable of flying him around the world in less than an hour. He would have had to have possessed gravitational temporal power in order to get from point A to point B within the timeframe.

There was also the speculation of the late-night guard's identifying the suspect. According to security reports, Mack Daniels had been one-hundred percent positive that the man he had allowed through the front gate had been Squall Leonhart, and that the guard had believed the SeeD to be there on business with the President. From what she knew, Squall was slightly shorter than average height, but he had a specific physical build – probably from training at the Garden – so it would be difficult to impersonate him successfully. Adding the relativity of the night, as well as the info-red goggles the soldiers wore, and it was possible that the ID could have become mistaken – after all, the goggles only shaded the figure into a green blur.

But there was also the voice of the user – the initial cause of the ID. Everyone's voices are controlled by the vibrations that are caused by the vocal cords in a person's throat. Though the effect is the same, the range, tone and sound of the voice are always different, making that person's voice unique. Though true that a voice synthesiser of Esthar's make could mask the user's true voice, and that it was easily obtainable, it could never mask it with one-hundred percent accuracy and their real voice would leak out with a mechanic undertone.

Shaking her head, she chose to debate those thoughts while she wrote her report, allowing her mind to travel towards everything she had learned when studying Psychology. People possessing narcotic tendencies were able to act as though they were normal like the rest of society, allowing them to blend in and making it very difficult to find them. The thought of the eighteen-year-old of whom she had just finished speaking with being able to lie to her as casually and easily as he might have made her skin crawl. The fact that there were actually people out there had made her want to become a psychiatrist in the first place.

_His file does indicate pathological tendencies, so it is possible that he could have just made the story up._ Christine thought as she entered the elevator that would take her to the floor she wanted. _I need to think on both sides; I can't afford to be partial here, but at the same time, it's almost impossible to believe he's the culprit. _

It was a feasible concept – Squall could have arrived in Esthar early enough; committed the murder and headed back to Deling City in order to cover his tracks. He could have convinced his comrades that he had been there the entire night, or even to lie about his whereabouts – making then accessories – but the Estharians could have caught up to him before he could turn out the rest of his plan. After all, the SeeD did run at first.

_But then why would he have returned? Why would he have sought out the Estharians in order to give himself up if the initial response to his capture had been running away?_ She questioned, trying to get into a defence attorney's head. _Because he wanted to make it look as though he were innocent; that he had absolutely nothing to do with the attacks. He knew his comrades would tell the authorities that he had been with them during the time of the murder; and if it were recorded that he cooperated with the Estharian authorities, it would make it harder for a jury to want to convict._

The elevator dinged and she left the mechanical box, on her way to her office, even as she continued the jargon in her head. _Not to mention it would make the original escape seem invalid – he hadn't known why he was being arrested and felt as though he were being attacked._

Then again, it was all hearsay. She would have to testify, of course, which meant leaving for Dollet and staying there for the duration, which also meant having to tell her clients that she would be away. Even though she had to be impartial as a member of the Estharian Cabinet, that didn't mean she would have to act according to that fact while being cross-examined. She would, after all, be under oath to tell the truth, and her true opinion was inching closer and closer to believing that Squall Leonhart was innocent.

_This is getting me thinking too much…_ she thought to herself. _Just concentrate on returning to your office and getting that report done._

* * *

**7:42:35**

* * *

Having parked the hover bike in the parking lot, Bobby made his way through the entrance of the holding area, thinking back to when he had been there during his youth. He remembered the layout fairly well; the lot where the prisoners were allowed one hour of outdoor activity a day was sectioned off to the east of where he presently was, and the cellblocks were further west of the lot; the guards afraid that they would attempt to escape via the yard in the middle of the night. Bobby always thought it hilarious that they'd forget the simple fact that there were twenty feet tall walls barring them from the outside world, not to mention the dozen or so guards regularly patrolling the area in case something happened.

_Looks like nothin's changed since I was last here,_ he thought to himself as he continued down the halls. He couldn't be sure whether or not the design to this specific area had changed or not, since he had never once been a visitor to the prisons.

_Look at me now, waltzing in here like a man with a clean record. _

Bobby found it especially ironic that he was freely entering the prison establishment. Anytime prior to the present he had always been wearing a set of handcuffs on his wrists, but no one even spared him a glance as he made his way deeper into the station. He wondered about that for a second; where was all the security? How come he wasn't being asked for any identification and the like before being sanctioned as a visitor? It didn't make any sense.

He shook his head, willing the thoughts of his past out of his mind. The only thing that mattered to him was taking out his brother's killer, and allowing the man to rest in peace. He summoned his brother's image to the forefront of his mind, but the surprise of his being there wasn't so easily abated.

"That stuff's in the past now," Bobby reminded himself under his breath – somehow hoping that hearing the words rather than thinking them would make them sink in. "All that matters is letting Jack's memory rest."

"Anderson, right?

Jumping slightly at the sudden sound, Bobby stopped in his tracks, whirling around to face the direction the voice had come from, his eyes narrowing when he recognized the uniform of a standard prison guard. He had no love for the uniform or the memories that came with it; back during the Adelist regime, he'd get beaten and spat on just 'cuz the fuckers felt like it. He still had the scars from that kind of torture, mostly emotional but the physical ones were only finally just starting to disappear.

From the looks of the man who'd called him by his last name (_who's this fucker and how'd he know my name_, Bobby wondered mentally), he could've easily been Jack's age, if not a little older. He had a crew cut like the army guys he'd seen in movies and TV, greying dark hair and his uniform was neat and tidy – just like Jack's dress uniforms for work.

A moment passed between the pair before Bobby finally said something. "Who wants to know?"

"Dale sent you, right?" The guard asked and Bobby felt a tremor run through him, just at the sound of the crazy fucker's name. "I'm here to help you get your justice."

Regaining his composure, Bobby removed any impression of his surprise and trepidation from his facial expression. It was a trait he'd learned to perfect in high school, and it'd helped him lie his way out of trouble, for the most part. "Colour-coat it all you want," he snapped. "But I got no illusions of what I'm doing. It's called revenge."

The guard's grin widened, apparently pleased with what he had heard. "Alright then. You're the boss. I take it that Dale told you what was up?"

Bobby recalled the conversation and nodded in response. "Yeah. Said to come here and you'd fill me in on the finer details. Also said something 'bout a distraction."

"Great." The guard nodded to himself. "Then let's not beat around the bush." He gestured for Bobby to start walking and they continued to travel deeper into the prison establishment. "This prison's got about five different cellblocks. Block A, B, C –"

"Been here before." Bobby said. "I know the layout. Just get to the point."

If the guard'd been surprised by the admission, he sure as hell wasn't showing it. "Each cell block receives on hour of outdoor activity throughout the day. First it's A, then B, then so on and so on."

Bobby was beginning to grow impatient. He knew all of this already, but the shitter was acting as though he hadn't heard him say anything. Still, he chose not to interrupt this time and hoped the bastard got to the part of the plan he actually wanted to hear about. "The guy you're lookin' for is in cell block D, meaning he'll be going outside with the rest of 'em real soon. During that time, one of our guys – he's got a sniper scope located at the North-Eastern wall of the yard – has been filled in on what he has to do."

Bobby's frown deepened. "I thought _I_ was gonna be the one to take him out."

"Relax, I'm not done yet." The guard said, appearing not to really care that he had been interrupted once again. "The target isn't your brother's killer; it's another worm we gotta shut up. We can off him anytime though; not like he's going anywhere anytime soon.

"Anyway, our guy's gonna take a shot and try to clip him. Not kill him, but hurt him pretty bad. One shot's all it's gonna take; the prisoners'll hear the shot and assume the guards'll be busy trying to catch the sniper. They'll try to escape. When that happens, we send you to where we _know_ your target is headed and you get to do whatever the hell you want to him. It's your call."

He thought about it for only a second before nodding his consent. It sounded simple enough, but not so simple that it seemed half-baked: more like it'd work without a hitch, so long as everyone played their part. Then again, even if it'd sounded like garbage he would've done it; anything to get back at the fucker. "I'm in. When does this thing go down?"

"Half passed eight this morning." The guard said. "That's when D-Block gets their time outside." He took a moment to check his watch before speaking again. "It's about ten to eight now, meaning plenty of time to get prepared. Though I gotta warn you 'bout somethin'."

The guard stopped walking, and looked both ways as though to make sure no one was listening in. Bobby stopped walking to and folded his arms across his chest, wondering what it was the guard needed to warn him about. When the guard was satisfied, he turned back to look at Bobby. "The guy you're after's a crafty sonovabitch. He'll try to talk his way outta you shooting him. Tell you he's been framed; someone set him up. You know, that sorta thing."

"I'm not gonna fall for that piece of shit story." Bobby stated, annoyed that he'd be seen as so gullible. "Ain't stupid enough to fall for that. He pays and he pays now. What's he look like?"

"Short dark hair, blue-grey eyes." The guard said without missing a beat. "Not very tall either; just taller than five and a half feet. He'll be wearing the same uniform as everyone else."

"Sounds like every fucker I've run into." Bobby started, but the guard raised a hand, signalling that he wasn't finished yet.

"Though the most telling sign that it's him," he said, pointing an index finger at the left side of his own forehead. "is the scar that runs from here," he traced an invisible line to just underneath his right eye. "to here. You can't possibly miss it; kinda stands out."

Bobby wondered for a second what kind of knife fight the punk'd gotten himself into before all this before mentally shrugging it off. He didn't give a rat's ass about what the fucker did before he'd killed Jack. The only thing he cared about was that he'd murdered his straight-arrow brother, and now he was going to pay.

"Just do your part right," The guard was saying. "and revenge'll be all yours."

_You don't have to worry about me,_ Bobby thought to himself, but offered the guard a curt nod anyway. Jack had done everything he could to help Bobby when he had been in trouble, and it was high-time Bobby paid him back with interest.

* * *

Xu tapped her foot irritably on the floor of the elevator she was riding inside of. Her arms were folded across her chest, the sleeves of the uniform she wore irritating her for no apparent reason as she stared straight ahead, her purplish-brown eyes glaring at the glass door as if it shouldn't even exist. Her fingers tapped irritably against the material of her sleeve in the same tone as her foot, but she barely gave it any notice as the elevator finally reached its destination.

Checking her watch, she realized it was almost midnight; she knew she'd nipped the situation in the bud, but the fact of the matter still remained that people still talked. If those students she caught breaking curfew were to speak to anyone else about what they'd heard, there'd be an uproar; possibly on the same scale as that of the Sorceress War. She couldn't let that happen.

The doors had barely opened when the veteran SeeD moved from the contraption and entered the bridge of the third floor, moving towards the Commander's office. She had been on her way to her quarters for the night, but something of urgency had forced her to come back and, though she'd rather discuss the matter with the Headmaster, he was currently in Esthar.

She didn't even bother to knock on the door, instead merely walking through it in time to see Commander Greenwood packing his things for the night. _Good,_ she thought to herself. _I haven't missed him._

Before the Commander could say anything, she placed a portable radio on top of his desk. "I found some cadets breaking curfew tonight."

"That's nothing new." Conrad stated. "Nice radio."

"But I found this with them."

Donning a confused facial expression, Conrad flicked the contraption on and the former silent room was filled with a reporter speaking in standard Estharian.

Conrad's expression said it all, and Xu once again interrupted him. "This is what it normally sounds like, but one of the cadets had this attached to it."

She held up a small attachment – what would look like an ordinary metal plate to cover one side of the radio. "When I asked her about it, she said her grandmother had gone to Esthar a month ago and had brought that back with her as a souvenir; that it converts Estharian to standard Common. It's supposed to be handy when you need something to translate."

She attached the piece onto the radio and instantly, the Estharian speech changed to that of the common language.  
"… that the reports of the homicide that took place earlier this morning at the Presidential Residence, located just within the center of the country's capital, have been confirmed with the arrest of a SeeD, who is being charged with the crime…"

"Oh no…" Conrad breathed, even as the reporter droned on. "How many of them know?"

"Only a few presently." Xu shrugged. "I sent them to the disciplinary room for breaking curfew, but who knows how long I can hold them there. And the students who already have been scheduled to the room for already existing punishments will overhear the news, and they'll tell their friends, who'll tell their friends, and so on." Shaking her head, the brunette sighed. "By noon, everyone in Balamb Garden'll be in an uproar, and it's possible that the other Gardens won't be too far behind."

Conrad cursed softly and Xu understood why. The Headmaster had entrusted them to keep a lid on the situation until they could get it all sorted out, but it looked as though things weren't going to happen that way. If they continued to hide the facts from the cadets and remaining SeeDs, there would be inner turmoil; no one would listen to reason and would probably cause a revolt, which in turn would make the situation even worse.

Conrad seemed to be thinking on the same lines, since his words broke her out of her musings. "We have to tell them. I know we were ordered not to, but it would be better if we explained everything rather than have the remainder of Garden jumping to conclusions."  
"They're going to want to do something when they find out that it's Squall they arrested." Xu said, and momentarily regretted it as she saw something flash across Conrad's face. Was it bitterness? She couldn't be sure, since it disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced, and she made a mental note to look into it later.

"I know, but we aren't left with any other choice, right?"

Xu nodded solemnly and Conrad sat back down into his chair. "I'll have an announcement ready in a little while. We need to tell them before the gossip can spread any further. How long do you think you can detain the students who already know?"

"I'm not sure." Xu said. "Most of them have done broken curfew before – there's only one student who's a first time offender, and she's the one who owns the radio and the translator."

"We'll keep this for the time being; maybe the reporters will report something useful for a change," Conrad joked lightly. "In the meantime, I'll prepare the announcement."

Xu saluted the Commander before turning around and heading out of the office. It looked as though sleep was going to have to wait.

* * *

He was slightly annoyed.

Only slightly, because things in Esthar were moving along smoothly. Schipner had assured him that the plan would go off without a hitch, and yet Leonhart would still be alive to serve his purpose to the cause. Even if he wasn't a loyal supporter like the rest, he still had other means of usefulness they could extort. He had knowledge they could probably use at a later date and if they could successfully pry it out of him, then all the better.

Though it wasn't necessarily a priority; just his presence alone was enough.

He had people working under him stationed all over the globe; places as useful as the capital cities and the Gardens, and other places as meaningless as Fisherman's Horizon and Centra. Still, he had to cover his bases; there was no way this plan was to be foiled.

He especially had worked hard to make it work.

It had been his idea since the botched mission two months prior – the attack on the Estharian Presidential Residence that had been all but completely covered up. They couldn't afford to have loose ends running about and despite Leonhart's meddling, he was still very useful and could not be cut loose just yet.

It was the progress within the Garden that was being stalled, because another loose thread had yet to be found. He had made it this moles personal duty to search for him, since it was SeeD's highest priority. And yet the allusive thorn had yet to surface. This was very unlike him; he was normally the center of everyone's attention.

Aside from Leonhart's meddling, this one other thorn could ruin the plans himself.

That couldn't be allowed to happen; all of his hard work would not go to waste.

He was eager for the next phase of the plan to initiate; eager to receive the signal that would allow him to go ahead and launch the original plan. It would be a show worth seeing and he couldn't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when that happened.

* * *

**_8:00:00 _**


	7. Hour 7

* * *

Chapter Posted: **04/08/2007**

Chapter Edited: **06/22/2007**

* * *

_**The following takes place between 8am and 9am.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

* * *

Christine had handed in her report as soon as she had finished working on it roughly five minutes prior. It had taken less time to write it than she'd thought it would; the words had come rather easily to her, despite the difficulty in obtaining such information. Now, they were currently in the conference room, having already given a brief summary of her findings and the room was now buzzing with conversation. She wondered how much longer this entire thing would go on until they finally came to a consensus, eager to leave the office.

Though she had handed in her report, she still had her hardcopy saved onto her computer and had every means to delve deeper into it. Something didn't seem right to her, the prisoner's words roaming around in her mind as she tried to work out what seemed true and what seemed false. She still had her doubts of his innocence, though they seemed much more insignificant now that she had spoken to him.

Finally, when she felt as though the tension in the room couldn't have been cut through by a knife, she rose to her feet once again, gaining everyone's attention almost immediately with the action. Clearing her throat, she adjusted her glasses and spoke firmly and concisely. "In conclusion to my report, I would like to offer to you my opinion on the matter."

"Nonsense!" Schipner exclaimed from where he sat. Christine merely chose to stare ahead of her as he continued with his argument. "She's already biased her judgement by speaking to the prisoner before trial; her opinion could be contaminated, and would contaminate that of everyone else in this room should we hear it."

"I will allow it." Jared stated and Schipner let out an outraged squawk. "She is a psychiatrist; should there be anything detrimental about the prisoner that would make him ineligible to stand trial, then we must hear it."

Christine nodded and began with what she wanted to say. "From what I have read from his file, Squall Leonhart is a greatly disturbed young man. Orphaned at a young age and then trained to fight inside of a Garden, withdrawing himself from other people and the list goes on. It is of my opinion that as a child, he should never have been placed inside of a military building as he was.

"Throughout his adolescence, all he did was train in the Garden, and though he graduated only recently he was forced to take on the responsibility of leading a war against a Sorceress. One would think the person I am talking about has had many battle experiences to be able to lead a military force into a war, but he was only seventeen at the time."

"Your point?" Schipner asked, appearing bored.

Christine paid him no mind. "I'm saying that the Garden might have had a hand in any unstable mechanisms – offensive or defensive – that led to the attack; that is _if_ he was the murderer in the first place."

"But is he capable of standing trial for his crimes?" Schipner asked. "Are you trying to tell us, in your own method, that he is so unstable due to his childhood and treatment in Garden that he cannot own up to his crimes."

Christine blanched slightly, surprised by the sudden question. "Well… no, that's not what I'm saying. From speaking to him today, I find that he is more than capable of being tried in a court of law, but…"

"Good." Schipner said before turning to look at Jared. "Then I motion that we make a decision."

Jared nodded in agreement before turning to look at Christine. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to step outside while we converse."

Christine frowned before Schipner spoke up once more. "This is what you get for making this kind of decision. You should have known of the consequences in the beginning."

Nodding solemnly, Christine headed out of the room, damning Schipner as the door closed shut. She had just been in the midst of asking for more time to analyze him, but the elder man had cut her observations short. There was something odd with the way the man had been acting, but until she could find out what it was, she knew that all she could do was wait.

But that didn't mean she couldn't do something about it.

Her mind made up, she headed back to her office, preparing to look further through the file. If Squall Leonhart was an innocent man, she felt it was her obligation to see to it that the real perpetrator was sought out.

* * *

Entering the elevator, he pressed one of the buttons, watching as the doors slid shut in front of him. Though their technology was far more advanced than that of the rest of the world, elevators had proven to be a useful commodity – especially since the hover-pods regulated throughout the city was only capable of seating a small number of people at a time.

Sighing, he noted how his mind had turned to such an insignificant subject. He was head of security – his mind should be focussed on the job, not on stupid details like the continued existence of an electronic box.

He was restless – since the attack earlier in the morning James hadn't been able to think as clearly as he would have liked. Though he was still capable of making decisions if the need arose, he found that his focus was shot and that only happened if he was cooped inside for far too long.

_Not to mention the actual identity of the suspect._ James thought to himself. Even he had to admit that, had it not been for the man they were currently holding prisoner, no one would be around to arrest anyone for a crime.

Aside from Garden, a select few were privileged enough to know the exact occurrence of the Sorceress War and, though James had not been privy to such vital information, he had overheard the mission regardless – uniformed in an Estharian soldier uniform and positioned outside of the doors in the Estharian Residence for security reasons – though not overly experienced in the monster extermination business, he was a hell of a good shot. Sorceress Possession, Adel, Time Compression, it had come together pretty quickly, but knowing that there was a Sorceress in the future who had wanted to destroy time was a bit disturbing and had kept his mind occupied for a good couple of months before he had finally given up on the thought.

_That and the foiled kidnapping attempt..._ he thought to himself, suddenly embittered by the memory, but pushing it aside for the moment. He couldn't afford to lose whatever focus he had left – he had a new job to carry out.

It had almost been his fault that the kidnappers had almost grabbed the President's niece; had he not been preoccupied with conspiracy theories of the previous war, he would have done his job and not allowed the girl to go off by herself (which was always the case; the girl was a notorious for ditching her guards as the President himself). He wouldn't have allowed the attack to happen, and it was a surprise that President Loire and Leonhart – he had been visiting at the time – hadn't blamed him for the screw up. Instead, they had focused on the kidnappers, trying to figure out their motives.

The only reason he'd been able to stop the kidnappers was by the element of surprise. Leonhart had distracted a good number of them while James had rushed off to prevent the kidnappers from getting away. It had worked, but he still felt guilty about it; he shouldn't have had to have been told to do his job; it should have come about instinctively.

Trying with a lot of difficulty to remove his thoughts from that particular incident, James focused more on what he had spoken about with Jared Ashen. Apparently, the Cabinet Director had had Intel that there was to be an attempted break out later in the day, and had asked him to keep an eye on the prisons in case it wasn't just a rumour. Though thoroughly insulted that he was stuck babysitting the inmates, he figured it'd be a good idea to keep an eye on Leonhart. While Christine's doubts were hardly a concern to him, he still had questions floating around in his mind – questions that he wouldn't mind having the answers to, but knowing that he'd never receive.

_After all, if he _is _guilty, then he'd just lie._

Besides; it would serve to keep his mind off his inner musings.

The elevator dinged and he was off, turning a corner and heading to his security office. While he was no prison guard, he had the necessary jurisdiction to oversee just about anything – for security reasons of course. Though it wasn't necessary to check in on the guards, he figured that he owed them that much – they worked there too and it was a lot easier when they were willing to co-operate.

Opening the doors, he watched as two of the guards swivelled around to face him, nearly a hundred monitors positioned along the far wall and curving towards the door. James still thought it ridiculous that only two guards were stationed at one time – there was no way they'd be able to catch anything.

"I'm just letting you know I'll be keeping a watch out in the cellblocks." James said and they nodded in response, not even bothering to ask him what it was about. The Chief of Security had proven over the past few years that if he needed to keep an eye on things, that was simply what he was going to do. "Give me a holler if you note something suspicious."

Another nod and James was on his way towards the cell block.

* * *

For once the area around him was relatively quiet.

Riley hadn't spoken much since before he'd left to be questioned by the Psychiatrist. That in itself was a blessing, though Squall wondered if it could also be mused as an omen. Riley had mentioned he liked to talk a lot.

Currently, he was lying with his hands supporting the back of his head as he stared up at the ceiling of his cell, lost in thought. He was still trying to piece together how he had been framed so successfully, though – like before – he wasn't getting anywhere. He guessed it could be that he was thinking inside of the box a bit too much, or it could also be because he was nearly sleep deprived. Either option wasn't helping his situation.

As he closed his eyes – hoping it would help him concentrate – he heard whispering from his right and couldn't help but listen in. Even without his junctions, he had been trained to be able to pinpoint and focus on a specific sound. The skill came in handy, especially if he was under threat of being ambushed.

But he realized almost as soon as he pinpointed the sound that it was people whispering. Inclining his head towards the right while trying to maintain a façade of sleep, he recognized one of the voices as Butch's. He assumed that he was talking to Lenny on the opposite side of the hall. Despite his belief that nothing of their conversation would be of any use to him, he chose to listen in anyway.

"…those pricks won't know what hit 'em." Butch was saying, his friend nodding excitedly. "the whole thing'll work out, and soon we'll be outta here…"

"The motherfuckers'll be standing there," the lanky prisoner bobbed his head up and down. "scratching their heads like a monkey doin' a math problem."

"Wouldn't talk if I were you." Butch snorted, and his friend laughed all the same.

Squall continued to listen with his eyes closed, but he could already guess what they were talking about – a planned break out. Obviously if that were to happen, the guards would be engrossed with re-apprehending all the escaped prisoners. They'd be distracted long enough for any number of situations to occur.

The SeeD had no doubt the guards were going to accomplish that particular objective. They didn't appear to be stupid; more paranoid actually. They'd obviously have some plan of operation in order to make sure no one got off the property. The worst case scenario would be that a few might get out, but they'd probably be back by the end of the day.

For a very brief moment, Squall considered joining in on the break out. If anything, it'd buy him the amount of time he'd need in order to contact the rest of his team, give them the information he'd managed to come up with and come up with some kind of plan. The downside to the plan, however, was that he was already being accused of terrorist activities. If he attempted to break out, all of his efforts to prove his innocence would be for nothing.

Squall frowned even as he came to this conclusion. No, it was better to wait things out and see what happened in the event that a break out did occur before assessing his options. Waiting was definitely not on the list of things he considered his favourite pastime, but it was his only option.

For the moment at least.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Riley asked from beside him, jarring the SeeD from his thoughts. Squall opened his eyes slowly and turned his head in order to regard the other cell mate. He had known the silence was just too good to be true.

Riley snorted in response. "You're frowning like you got a bad taste in your mouth."

Squall chose to ignore him – he didn't have to explain himself to anyone, especially a man whom he'd only just met. Unfortunately, Riley didn't seem to take a hint as quickly as everyone else. "I think I know what's bugging you."

Squall spared him another look and Riley met the expression with a knowing one, lowering his voice as he did. "You heard 'bout the break out."

_Not exactly,_ Squall thought to himself, but chose to humour the man and nodded. Maybe then he'd leave him alone.

"Yeah, I'd be worried too." Riley nodded. "Been here for a few dozen break outs. You're wondering if you should participate."

_How is he able to read me so well?_ Squall wondered mentally; worry worming its way into his gut. Not even Rinoa could tell what he was thinking about as accurately as this man.

"Had the same questions running around in my head. Eventually, I chose not to. No point. They'd just track you down again and bring you back. And even if you did manage to avoid 'em, you'd have to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder."

_Also a fact,_ Squall mentally agreed. _But not entirely the reason._

"Ah well," Riley said, pulling himself into a sitting position on top of the bed. "Whatever the reason, I'd say it's best to just stay outta it. If you try and stop 'em, things'll get… unpleasant… around here. I seen what they do to snitches…" Riley jumped in when Squall gave him a questioning look. "Nothin' pretty, that's for damn sure."

_As if I didn't know that,_ Squall thought bitterly, but agreed that it would be better to act the part of the wall-flower. He did it well enough, so there shouldn't be a problem, should everything fall into place.

A whistle sounded from nearby, and it almost had Squall springing into an offensive stance. Had he not caught himself, he most certainly would have. When the whistling subsided, he heard a set of footfalls after the opening and closing of the holding cell doors.

"Looks like it's that time again." Riley said, rising to his feet. "We get one hour of exercise a day, everyday. Don't know why they schedule it this early though, since most people are only just waking up. Guess they don't want us to get lazy."

Squall turned to look away from Riley, just as a loud buzzing noise sounded from close by. The teenager pulled himself into a sitting position as the door to his cell automatically opened, one of the prison guards standing just in front of it. "Okay maggots. Get your asses moving, now!"

Everyone did as told, filling out of their cells and standing in a line along the corridor. Squall noticed that the guard addressing them – a man with greying dark hair fashioned into a military cut – seemed to stare at him for a moment before moving on. He wondered what that was about for about a moment before the guard moved on, shackles gripped in both hands.

Squall watched as the guards in the area strapped each and every inmate together by the arms and legs, the shackles placed on both wrists and ankles. When the guards were satisfied, they nodded at one another before the one doing all the talking spoke again. "Move it, maggots! I ain't got all day!"

After a moment, they were walking down the hall, single file with guards walking along side them. Squall noticed that the guard who had been staring at him was walking along side him and wondered briefly if it was a coincidence. The SeeD didn't really believe in them, though they were bound to happen. But by the look of this man, Squall could tell he had something to hide. It was just a matter of figuring out what exactly.

After a few minutes of walking, Squall found that they were passing through an opened door, the light of the day momentarily blinding him before his eyes were able to adjust. He realized – after taking a few moments to blink – that they were standing in a court yard, the walls surrounding them rising to at least twenty feet tall from what he could see. Each wall had a guard post at every corner, probably to patrol in case someone managed to escape into the court yard. Sketched along the concrete ground was a basketball court and positioned along the edges of the courtyard were benches and exercising equipment, probably to keep the inmates entertained. The more distractions they had, the less likely they were to escape after all.

The guards uncuffed the inmates one at a time and as soon as Squall was free, he headed right towards the nearest bench, sitting hunched over with his gaze on the ground. He had some thinking to do.

Riley apparently had other plans; when Squall found a shadow looming over him, he knew he wasn't going to be left alone. "Wanna play some B-Ball?" Riley asked cheerfully.

The man was beginning to remind him of Zell; the other SeeD's persistence, especially when it came to finding someone to spar with him, was a valuable asset, but at the same time it was excruciatingly annoying. Squall chose to ignore Riley's invitation, but after a moment he could feel pressure being added to his left. This told him that Riley had invited himself to sit next to him.

"You still worried about the break out?" Riley asked. When Squall glanced at him – a silent request for him to get lost – Riley simply looked thoughtful. "No… you're more worried about something else, aren't ya?"

_I need to figure out how he's doing this..._ Squall thought to himself. Frowning to himself, he kept his gaze directed at the ground, wondering exactly how long it would take for Riley to finally take a hint.

* * *

**8:14:43**

* * *

From his position at the door, he surveyed the courtyard, as though he was really doing his job, but noted that the two targets were sitting together, one of them talking while the other appeared to just be looking at the ground.

While he appeared stony-faced on the outside, he inwardly smiled; it was definitely them.

Tapping the lapel of his collar while making it look like he was scratching his neck, he activated the microphone stashed underneath it and spoke softly. "They're together. Proceed as planned."

Receiving an affirmative, he deactivated the object and watched, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

A man dressed in a guard uniform put out the cigarette he'd just lit with a muttered cursed. It never failed – operations and shit always happened when he went for a smoke. Happened all the time with the hover-pods, and since he'd never been allowed to smoke on them, he'd always had to waste the precious object.

His kid sister always told him he should quit.

Didn't fucking matter anyway; he knew he was gonna beat cancer.

Moving behind one of the pillars, he pulled out a case and opened it, smiling at the disassembled object before reassembling it, putting together each piece as though he were a man possessed and smiling in accomplishment when he held the sniper riffle in hand. He did it quietly, so as not to attract any unwanted attention as he slid each piece into place. Finally, he attached the scope atop the weapon, and he positioned it over the pillar, well aware that the only one who could see him was the man who had contacted him in the first place.

Looking through the scope, he manoeuvred his position, shifting so that he was able to see his target from his position. It wouldn't help matters if he got the wrong guy, after all.

* * *

James was wondering through the cellblocks, keeping an eye on the prisoners when he finally arrived at cell block D, and was unpleasantly surprised to see that everyone was gone. Checking his watch, his frown deepened; it was still roughly an hour before cell block D went outside, but he'd be damned if he could figure out where they'd gone.

He'd finally approached a guard after a few minutes of searching for one and he had explained the guard's agreed to let the prisoners out a little earlier that day. James frowned; it was against protocol to change the schedule so suddenly without alerting higher members of staff; and that included him. James was at the top of security and if a change was to be made he had to authorize it first.

Some numbskull apparently believed he knew better than him.

As he ran straight for the courtyard, James couldn't help but wonder if some of the guards were in on the attempt. It would make sense; change to a bunch of convicts who have spent the last decade or so on the same timeline were bound to become confused by the sudden change of events. If the time for the exercise changed, there was bound to be some chaos. However, his radio remained silent – there was nothing out of the ordinary, besides the time change.

James figured that it was simply because no one had any watches. Watches could be used as weapons or, in some cases, a tool for escape. Of course the prisoners traded for items they wanted all the time or just flat out stole them, but the guards made very sure that there was nothing that could be used as a weapon to their disposal.

But if they'd let the prisoners out earlier – specifically this cell block – and there were guards in on the escape attempt, then who was to say the prisoners would stay weaponless?

James broke out into a run from his steady and speedy walk, hoping that the prisoners hadn't taken the opportunity to implement their plan of escape outside.

* * *

By the time his target was in his line of fire, he'd realized that one of them was doing all the talking – the other was just sittin' there like some kinda statue. He didn't know much of the details but he recognized the second figure. He had his own orders, of course, but the fact that _he _was there as well was enough to make any kinda history.

Course, he wasn't stupid – he wasn't his target after all.

Still, if he managed to kill off the man who was responsible for Sorceress Adel's death, he'd go down in history – both famously and infamously. There were two sides to everything after all – with fame comes ill repute, but that didn't matter. The only thing stopping him from slightly changing his target was what the Adelists might do to his sister as a consequence. His life past this point didn't really matter all that much, but he didn't want his sister to have to pay just because he got cocky.

The scope finally pin pointed his target at dead center – the lines crossing over the man's chest as he laughed at something – probably something insignificant and very unimportant; the other guy just sat there and ignored him. The silencer was placed over the nozzle of the weapon, so there wasn't going to be any warning for the target.

The only thing he didn't like about this plan was that he was supposed to miss. Fuck that shit; he'd never missed a target before by accident. This was going to be the last time he ever did this, so why the fuck should he try to miss now?

Just to know he could?

He wasn't ruining his record over some bullshit reason.

Even as the second guy finally tuned into the conversation, his index finger curved over the trigger button, preparing to fire.

* * *

**8:16:59**

* * *

Squall looked up for the first time since he'd sat down on the bench and stared at Riley, who cut himself off from telling another one of those jokes he thought was funny but actually wasn't. Ever since meeting this man, Squall'd noticed how easily the man had been able to read him and it wasn't very settling. Even his friends whom, for the most part, had known him since childhood, hell even Rinoa, whom he told everything, couldn't tell what he was actually thinking all the time.

He stared at him for a moment, trying to get a glimpse of what Riley was thinking – see if he could figure him out just as easily, though he had a feeling it wouldn't be so. He was right; all he could see was confusion, but he could also tell it was shrouding something else. Something he couldn't pin point.

He didn't like this at all.

"Tell me something." He finally said and Riley leaned forward in order to listen better. "How is it that—"

Squall cut himself off, leaving Riley hanging to hear more, but it wasn't intentionally done. He'd caught something reflecting light from the distance and he quickly turned his attention towards the source. Though he didn't have his junctions, he scanned the perimeter with his eyes, hoping to catch sight of what it was. Just when he thought he'd only imagined it though, he caught it again, this time from one of the towers.

He remained seated, knowing that if he were to move he'd give away that he knew they were being watched. He looked up slightly, Riley catching his eye and looking up as well. The other man asked what he was looking at, but Squall ignored him in favour of catching something out of the ordinary. He saw guards standing at their positions along the wall that removed the penitentiary from the remainder of the city, and there were more guards along each corner on the ground. One guard was at the door in case he needed to get security, and on the surface it looked pretty secure.

Except Squall noticed that one of the posts was empty.

Not empty actually, as Squall took a better look. He could see the top of someone's head crouching down behind the wall that kept the guards from falling. He could tell it was one of the guards – the person was wearing the same hat. He was crouching far too long to have been doing up a boot-lace, and they were supposed to be standing at all times. He caught something else as well – light reflecting off a metal surface.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, telling Riley to stay where he was and moved closer, hoping to get a better look. He didn't have to move very far though – he recognized the metal that was poking out one of the stone pillars as the nozzle of a weapon. The same kind of weapon Irvine had used when he'd tried to kill Edea in Deling more than four months ago.

He immediately leapt into action, turning around and grabbing Riley by the arm, shouting at them to get down. A moment later, Riley shouted out in pain – his arm had taken a hit and there was blood on the bench from where he'd been sitting previously.

One of the inmates turned around when he heard the noise and, upon seeing the blood on a bench, he shouted that something had happened. That, in turn, had caused and immediate reaction; everyone in the courtyard erupted into an all out panic.

Squall quickly rose into a crouching position and pointed to where he'd seen the sniper riffle. "Up there!" he shouted, more to direct the guards to the sniper's location. When he saw the guards spring into action, Squall inspected Riley's arm, noting that the shot had been and through-and-through. Nothing serious and the wound could be healed easily, but if he even tried to use magic the guards would be on him quickly. He wasn't even supposed to have magic on him; he hadn't let them know he did and he couldn't give that up now.

"You…" Riley started, but Squall cut him off.

"You need to get to the infirmary." He was stating the obvious, but so what? Though the bullet had passed through Riley's arm, he was still losing a lot of blood. He need to keep him coherent – or as coherent as he could. Sighing, he cursed himself, knowing this was a bad idea, but also knowing he couldn't just _leave_ him there to bleed to death.

He moved into a kneeling position, and concentrated on the curative magic he still possessed before closing his eyes and moving his left hand onto Riley's arm. The other inmate gasped in shock as the curative properties of the spell began to slowly sow the wound back into place, but it was a temporary fix. He couldn't heal it all the way – no magic was capable of that unless it was cast by a Sorceress – but it would have to do. At least he wasn't bleeding heavily anymore.

"What did you…?" Riley started but was once again interrupted.

"You're healed for the most part, but it won't stop the bleeding completely. Go to the infirmary and get it looked at. Go now!"

Riley didn't stick around to argue; simply nodding as he rose to his feet and ran back into the building. The rest of the inmates were trying to manoeuvre passed the guards, but they weren't making very much leeway, and the resulting chaos all around told Squall that this had all been planned for some reason.

But the question remained; was the sniper trying to kill him or Riley?

Adding it to the list of unanswered questions in his mind, he knew he couldn't let any of these prisoners escape. Guilty or not, they were considered dangerous and had to be kept where they were, for the safety of the citizens. He wasn't going anywhere – there was the investigation of his innocence to be proven. If he stuck around and something else happened, they couldn't hold him accountable.

But even still, the guards were going to need assistance rounding up everyone who was attempting to escape.

_Guess staying out of it is no longer an option,_ he mused to himself bitterly. Though he wasn't junctioned, that didn't mean he couldn't hold his own against the other prisoners. He had speed on his side at least.

Noting that the guards seemed to have the situation outdoors under control, Squall raced back inside, wondering if the chaos had reached the indoors just yet.

* * *

James was just turning the corner that would lead him to the courtyard when his radio came alive again. He pressed the talk button on his sunglasses and responded immediately. "Talk to me."

"There's just been an attempt on one of the prisoner's lives." One of the guards answered. "We're out in the courtyard right now!"

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pushed the time ahead by an hour!" James snapped back but calmed himself. He couldn't afford to lose his temper. "Was the attempt successful?"

"Negative! The injured received a hit to the arm. One of the inmates – the same one who saved his life – looked it over and sent him to the infirmary."

"Was it Leonhart?" James asked.

"Negative. The injured's serial number is 214563 – from what I got from the back of his shirt. According to the records, his name's Riley Donaldson. Was busted for robbery and manslaughter."

"Do you think it's someone with a grudge?" James asked.

"If so, they've got a pretty huge one with him." The guard answered. "Donaldson's been here for the last seven years."

James frowned. It was very unlikely that, even given a grudge, someone would try to kill him now. If the attempt was going to happen, it would have happened a very long time ago. No, it had to be something else.

"What about the second inmate." James asked at length. "The one who helped Donaldson. Who was it?"

If James' suspicions were correct, then that meant Donaldson wasn't the target. It could only be confirmed, however, by knowing who was with Donaldson when he was shot.

"The serial number of that inmate is 592032 – that's the number displayed on his shirt. According to our records, that guy was…" the guard paused, obviously checking it out on the remote computer each guard had to carry in order to identify serial numbers of the prisoners and match them up to the data base. This information was always taken as soon as the prisoner was admitted, so there was always information on any of the inmates, regardless of how soon they'd arrived.

Finally the guard spoke up. "592032 – that's Squall Leonhart's serial number."

James slapped himself in the forehead. He hated it when he was right. "Where is he now?"

"He's not here anymore!" the guard said at great length. He had probably attempted to search him out. "He must have gone back inside – no one could have gotten passed us."

"Leonhart's a SeeD, but you're probably right. Less confusion inside the building rather than outside." James sighed. "I'm already inside the building, so I'll search for him. You continue to look for the sniper."

"Yes sir." The guard responded before James switched to all channels.

"Attention all prison personnel, there has been an attempted murder on one of the prisoners. Shut down the prison and detain any and all prisoners found outside their cell blocks. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill!"

He increased his speed, running passed the courtyard – he didn't need to go there anymore – even as he spoke. "Also, be on the lookout for a prisoner with dark hair and a scar between his eyes. The serial number on the back of his shirt reads 592032 – that's five, nine, two, oh, three, two. If you find him, detain him immediately and report back to me."

He received an affirmative on all open channels and switched the channel to Deilia's frequency. He'd need her to alert the President of the current situation. If Leonhart was the target of this assassination then he'd have to be the first one to find him.

He was not messing up again.

* * *

He'd been wondering just exactly how much longer he was going to have to wait when he heard the alarms blaring overhead and the guards announcing a complete lockdown on the prison. He didn't need to be told to know that the first phase of the plan had just started. Whether or not they got their guy didn't matter, so long as he got his.

Well, at least he finally knew why he'd had to be inside before the operation took place instead of just sneaking in during the chaos.

Nothing like this had ever happened when he'd been under lock and key.

Now all he had to do was wait for Jack's killer to be lured to where he was hiding. He just hoped it'd be soon – the longer he stood there the more likely the guards would see him and kick him out. His gut tightened in anticipation for the events that would follow and soon Jack would be able to rest in peace, while his killer rotted in hell.

Bobby smiled. It was almost over.

* * *

The klaxons sounded around him and he knew that all of the exits were sealed. After all, there was no way they would allow him to escape with what he had attempted to do. But that was alright – escape wasn't part of the plan anyway.

The only thing he had to curse about this entire incident was the stupid teenager who'd seen what was about to happen just seconds before he'd pulled the trigger and pulled his target to safety. He'd shot him alright, but he hadn't actually killed him.

It ruined his record and he was brilliantly pissed.

But as he had believed before he'd taken the shot, what happened to him afterwards no longer mattered. His scowl twisted into a tight grin, knowing that it wasn't over. The punk might have ruined his shot, but he was gonna get what was coming to him. Of course, it wasn't in the plan for him to be killed just yet, but soon he'd have to hand over his life in exchange for fucking up his shot.

Even if he wasn't slated to die during this time, he'd probably get taken out at some point that day. Or even in the near future when things were set to rights again.

Footsteps were approaching from all sides – there was no getting around them. He never had been good at close range combat; always preferring to take his targets out without them seeing him. Sighing slightly, he knew that he would never get to see his younger sister again, but that she would continue with the Adelist Legacy; all was not lost after all.

Reaching into the breast pocket of his stolen uniform, he pulled out a small rectangular package and pulled one of the cigarettes living inside of it out, tossing the rest of the pack over the edge. He searched his back pockets for a lighter, finding one and lit up, breathing the smoke from the tobacco in and exhaling. He felt refreshed somehow – almost free, knowing that it was so quickly drawing to an end.

Finally, the stupid guards showed up, their weapons raised. At first, they faltered, seeing one of their own in uniform, but upon spying the sniper riffle a mere few inches away, they primed their weapons, preparing to fire.

He didn't give them the chance, stretching his arms up into the air and they stopped, staring at each other in confusion…

…until he shifted his weight backwards and allowed himself to move over the stone pillar blocking off the edge, and entered freefall, the ledge he had been standing on moments before flying higher and higher from view until something solid crashed into his back. Apart from a split second of pain, his vision grew dark and he knew no more.

* * *

**8:25:34**

* * *

Deilia frowned as she stood in front of the President of Esthar, mentally cursing James as she finished with her latest report. It had suddenly dawned on her exactly what it was that she had signed up for, and the fact that James hadn't tried to argue her out of it made her feel worse. She just had to keep reminding herself that James was in the vicinity of the attack, so obviously he couldn't just come running to take her place. She'd just have to suck it up and deal with it.

_Still,_ she thought to herself. _I can't deny that it sucks to be yelled at._

She was suddenly aware that the Commander in Chief wasn't speaking and that the room was dead silent. Pulling herself away from her thoughts in confusion, she noted how President Loire sat in his chair behind his desk with a dumbstruck and shocked expression on his face. It wasn't worry for national security that had caused such distress on his features though; it was the worry and grief expression that a parent wore whenever they feared the worst for their child.

"Fortunately, he wasn't the one shot," Deilia reiterated, hoping to calm him down. At this stage, Esthar couldn't afford their leader to fall apart. Though she housed some of her own opinions on what had happened within the last twelve hours, she forced herself to remain impartial. "and he managed to prevent the sniper's target from being fatally shot as well, so once we manage to re-establish control over the prisons, we can proceed to question the man who was being targeted; possibly figure out why he was being targeted."

Sarcastically thanking James for catching her up on the facts in her mind, she noted that the President's shoulders sagged slightly out of relief. Unfortunately they weren't out of the woods yet; as he looked up to give her an order, his features still appeared worrisome.

"Sir, with all due respect you need to pull yourself together." Deilia said, interrupting her superior and hoping she wouldn't get in too much trouble for it later. "Your son is a SeeD; he has been in these kind of situations before, right?

Obviously, he knows how to take care of himself; he will be fine. But right now, his country needs you to focus. There is a sniper in the building, and we need to find him to bring order back to the prisons, or else the prisoners locked up will make their way into the city."

President Loire nodded in response after a moment. "You're right. You're absolutely right."

Finally, the worry was gone from his expression. Whether it was still there in hiding, Deilia didn't believe it would matter for the moment. Right now, their President was back, and he was able to make a sound decision. Sorting out his emotions could wait until later; right now, she had a job she needed to do.

"I understand that the prisons have been sectioned off during the crisis?" the President asked.

"Yes sir. Logans ordered the lockdown before contacting me."

"Good." The President shook his head slightly. "I know they're not going to like this, but I have the citizens of Esthar to think about."

Deilia didn't have to ask; she knew who 'they' were.

"Station all the guards in the vicinity of all entrances and exits to those positions and tell them to hold until I give the order." President Loire continued. "I know the prison detail can handle it, but they're going to have their hands full looking for the sniper and his accomplices. I doubt they're working alone."

"Understood sir."

"And I want constant updates on the situation for as long as it takes until it's resolved."

Deilia nodded in affirmation before contacting the necessary personnel. She still had a job to do after all.

* * *

Christine had returned to her office shortly after testimony of her findings. She still wasn't very happy with being tossed out, but the cabinet did have a point – she had questioned the prisoner and she had formed some opinions of her own. The fact that she would have to testify in front of a court was also a resulting factor.

She realized then and there that she hadn't thought things as thoroughly as she'd thought.

Sighing she returned her attention to the files set up in front of her. More importantly, the files pertained information to the suspect at hand and her doubts were continuously rising. She didn't believe that he should have become a SeeD after everything she'd discovered, but at the same time she didn't believe that, as of presently, he was capable to killing in cold blood. Someday though – possibly someday very soon – he would cross that line and if that were to happen the whole word would be on edge.

A monster of Garden's creation – the man who'd saved them all when no one else could.

She heard noises coming from outside her office and frowned. She'd never been able to concentrate when people were being noisy outside and she desperately missed her own office in downtown Esthar. She rose to her feet and approached the door, sticking her head outside in order to find out the reason behind the sudden distraction.

There was a troupe of Estharian soldiers moving along the hallway, and from what Christine understood; they were stationed to this area on patrol. Now they looked as though they were all heading to a specific location.

Closing the office door behind her as she left, Christine grabbed a hold of one of the soldiers and, when he fixed her with a glare – she could tell from his body language that he was annoyed at her for stopping him, but she wanted to know what was happening.

So she asked him. He sighed in response. "I'm not permitted to tell you at this time…"

"I'm part of the cabinet, so yes you are permitted." Christine shot back, equally annoyed. No matter how often it happened, she hated it when the soldiers and other workers viewed her as an average citizen when she worked closely with the cabinet. She pulled her wallet out of her pocket and flashed her badge in his face before continuing. "Now, what's going on?"

The soldier sighed again before lowering his voice so that only she could hear. "There's been an attempt on one of the prisoners in the Prison bay."

"Someone was almost killed?" Christine asked. "Was it Leonhart?"

"No, but we are under the assumption that someone wants to use the distraction the sniper attack caused in order to get rid of him." The soldier explained. "Though surprise, surprise, he's managed to disappear."

"Do you think he's escaped?"

"No, everyone is under the assumption that he's still inside the building. Even Logans is inside helping to search for him before the sniper's accomplice's catch him."

Christine's eyes widened. "James is in there?"

"He was asked by the head of the cabinet to investigate a rumour." The soldier said. "Are you sure you're a member of the cabinet? I would have thought you'd have known."

"Believe me," Christine said. She and Jared were going to have words. "So did I."

As the soldier moved to catch up to his squad, Christine returned to her office and closed the door behind her, leaning against the surface as she closed her eyes in thought. If James was still on the inside, then that meant these men and women were serious.

They had to be if they wanted to kill a SeeD.

Christine sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hoping that James would come out of this one alright.

* * *

James nearly stumbled head first into the prison infirmary, he was running so fast. Barely stopping to catch his breath, he approached one of the doctors and pushed past him, eying the prisoner lying on a cot, his right arm bandaged up. Upon seeing the gaze, he figured that this had been the man who was shot.

He hadn't located Leonhart yet – possibly because he didn't want to be found – but he'd figured he'd also check in on Donaldson. If they hadn't intended on killing him, then he might know something about these guys, though in James' opinion it was more likely he was just an innocent bystander.

Also, there was another reason why he wanted to talk to Donaldson.

"What happened?" James asked, his tone challenging him to be uncooperative.

"Someone on the ledge tried to kill me!" Donaldson exclaimed. "I was gonna get axed—"

"But someone pulled you out of the way." James interjected, already knowing this part. "Where did he go?"

Donaldson blinked. "What?"

"Where did the other inmate go?" James re-iterated. He didn't know if it was from the shock of being shot, or if Donaldson was normally this stupid, nor did he really care. If he was right, then there was at least one other person inside of the building and he needed to find him before they did. "That sniper might not have been targeting you."

Donaldson's expression turned thoughtful before his jaw flopped open. "That SeeD… the one who pulled me outta the way – you mean they wanted to shoot _him_?"

"Maybe." James shrugged. "So where did he go?"

"I dunno." Donaldson stated, his expression shifting to one of worry. "He told me to come here and I left him in the court yard. He could be anywhere by now!"

James whirled around and faced a guard that was standing near the bedside table. "Did you apprehend all of the prisoners?"

"I just got radioed about it." The guard, a man with dark greying hair and stubble along his jaw line, answered. "We just managed to contain most of the prisoners' population already, since the alert of a breakout came in. We staged an ambush inside of the prison in case they tried to escape and we caught them that way, but there are a few stragglers still hanging around."

James frowned thoughtfully. That meant that Leonhart could still be out there somewhere, and he definitely needed to find him. If he was right and that sniper had friends, then they weren't finished here, not by a long shot.

Suddenly, the guard standing next to him pulled out his radio and placed the earpiece next to his ear. His expression didn't change, which made James wonder what it was the men on the opposite end was saying before the guard affirmed whatever report he received and returned the radio to the side of his belt. "The sniper is dead."

"What?" James exclaimed and the guard pressed on. "When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Our men found his location but when they went to issue an arrest, the guy jumped. When they reached him, he was already dead."

"Who was he?"

"Don't know yet." The guard shrugged. "We're looking into it now."

"Good." James nodded. "I want a full report once you find out who he was and how he managed to get inside the building."

The guard nodded and immediately left the room. James went to follow him, but was grabbed at the arm. When he looked over, he realized Donaldson had managed to grab him and stop him before he could leave.

"Please," Donaldson said. "I've got a very bad feeling about all this. You gotta find him before those people do. I'd feel real crumby if something happened to him, seein' as he saved my life an' all."

James stared at him for a moment and nodded before removing Donaldson's grip on him. "You need to rest. But I will find him."

With that, James left, heading down the corridor as fast as his legs could carry him, praying that he wasn't too late.

* * *

**8:37:02**

* * *

It'd been a while since he'd left the courtyard and, so far, he'd been able to knock out and stop the soldiers in his path from escaping or taking over, keeping an eye out for the sniper all the same. The guards had tried to stop him a couple of times, but he'd managed to outrun them, leaving behind a trail of barely conscious prisoners ready to return to their cells.

He couldn't afford to get caught by the guards at the moment – they'd return him to his cell and if that were to happen, he'd be forced to wait it out. He hated waiting – almost as much as he hated thinking. He just couldn't stand still in a crisis; he had to be a part of it.

As he rounded another corner, he caught sight of one of the prisoners he was chasing afterwards. He'd managed to knock down one of the guards – the one who'd come to tend to Lenny after he'd broken his nose – and was preparing to finish him off.

Squall didn't allow him the chance. He clasped both hands together as he balled them into a single fist before slamming them against the back of the inmates head, rendering him unconscious. The guard was too stunned to even move and by the time he was able to do so, Squall was already down the hall and turning left, hoping that the other cell blocks hadn't gotten word of the situation.

That would be just what he needed; an entire prison filled with convicts who he needed to deal with.

It was strange though; the hall he had turned into was empty – desolate of anyone who would have tried to escape. He might have guessed which direction the prisoners would have gone, but recalling that nine times out of ten, anyone faced with a direction always chose the one that corresponded with the hand they used most often. Since most people were right-handed, the obvious answer was to head right.

Squall stopped in order to catch his breath, knowing that he had chosen the left path because of that very reason. He would just have to turn around and continue on down the right path, hoping the guard hadn't caught up to him by then.

Before he could though, he was grabbed from behind. Before he could do anything about it, he was slammed into the wall nearby, his back pounding from the sudden impact. Having had the wind knocked out of him, when he tried to draw in a breath, his attacker gripped his throat tightly with one hand, effectively pinning him to the wall.

After analyzing his attacker, Squall was surprised (and slightly ashamed) to discover he was a civilian. He looked to be late thirties, with dark hair, and didn't appear to be an overly powerful man. He was dressed casually as a civilian, but clutched in his right hand was a knife that made the man's intentions clear:

He was here to kill him.

* * *

_A kid?_ He thought to himself incredulously. _A punk fucking _kid _is my brother's killer?_

Bobby was seeing red – a deep crimson shade, the blood pounding in his ears as his blood boiled. He had had a mental picture of the guy he'd wanted to take care of; short, probably built like a fucking brick, dark hair and a scar. Most of the description had been accurate, except for the fact that the kid only had a few muscles on him and was, well, a kid. He didn't even know if he believed Dale or that fucking guard about him being a SeeD, but knowing that this fucking punk was the one who gutted his brother had nearly set him off.

The kid was just staring back at him with an impassive expression, eyeing the knife Bobby held in his hand almost apathetically, as if he'd expected it to come to this. Bobby had thought he had caught the little punk by surprise, hauling him up against the way with the knife primed to do some damage, but the only thing that could have even remotely guessed his shock was when they darted towards the knife the first time.

It made him angry; knowing that he wasn't getting the response he had wanted. He wanted the fucker to beg; to plead for his life – to realize that he had made a crucial mistake when he killed Jack, but so far the kid hadn't even said a word.

He was so angry he was shaking, so angry that the knuckles of his fingers were starting to turn white. The killer had no remorse for what he'd done; he was just like those punk Adelists from the past; the ones who had tortured him in the prison – they didn't care about anyone else; they wanted others to feel horrible so they could feel good about themselves.

Unwanted images of prison life threatened to swim into his mind, but he pushed them back almost violently, shaking his head as he did so. He couldn't lose it, not now. He was so close, so close to avenging his brother that he could taste it.

The silence was unbearable; he had to fill it if this bastard wasn't going to beg for his life. "You're probably wondering how you got here." Bobby said, trying his keep his voice tight like he had seen in the movies he'd watched when he was much younger. "Why I'm the one holding your life in my hands."

The kid remained silent. If he was terrified, then he wasn't showing it and it made Bobby feel angrier. Violently, he stabbed the knife into the wall beside the kid's head, and felt him flinch slightly. The fucker probably hadn't expected that, now did he?

"It's because you _fucked_ with the wrong family!" he shouted, pulling the knife back out of the hole he'd made. The kid eyed it wearily, finally understanding that Bobby was serious. "My family, you little prick! A family that was just getting back on its feet; who were finally getting back on track and you _murdered_ a man who had the best bet of making it through this shit life!"

A dull surprised expression flickered across the kid's face, and Bobby was feeling the stirrings of satisfaction for the first time since coming face to face with Jack's killer. He finally understood why he was here; what he had done and that he was going to be paying for it with his life. "You're the one from the photograph."

"Photograph?" Bobby shouted. "You mean you're fucking working for someone?"

Putting the knife as close to the kid's face as he could, he glared at him with a newfound hatred. "Who the _fuck_ hired you to kill my brother? What the _fuck_ did my brother do to deserve getting killed like that?"

He was still silent and just as Bobby was about to thrust the knife and cut him up to force him to talk, he finally spoke, but it was these three words that nearly threw Bobby into a rage he couldn't come out of. "I don't know."

* * *

They heard a howl of outrage and knew that they were close. He didn't know how far away Logans' was, but they figured that they were going to need him and soon. It had sounded almost inhuman, and it nearly made him stop in his tracks and reconsider exactly what it was he was running into.

Burton Jay had been a part of security detail for the last five years now. He had long since given up the title of rookie, but as he heard the cry of outrage, he nearly turned tail and ran. After the Lunar Cry, he had thought he had seen it all, but when someone entered the Presidential Residence and killed those people before they could actually do something about it, it had been nerve racking. Burton had been on duty since that night, and had been looking behind his back everywhere he went, in case the murderer came back.

When he had heard who had been identified as the killer, he had nearly fainted from it. Squall Leonhart had been seen as a hero to the citizens of Esthar, having stopped the Sorceress War somehow and helped maintain the Lunar Cry. The fact that he turned around and became homicidal had been hard to swallow at first, but as it began to sink it, it sort of made sense. From what he'd heard of the guy, he was powerful, quiet and didn't get all buddy-buddy with anyone. From what Burton had seen in his life, it was always the quiet guys you should be afraid of.

He still continued the pursuit and once they rounded the corner, they saw what it was that had caused the sound. A man who looked to be in his mid thirties was holding Leonhart up by the throat, a knife placed against his throat. The most astonishing part about it was that Leonhart was just letting the guy do it.

Raising his weapon, he heard the others do the same, pointing it towards the assailant. "Freeze!" he shouted, as he heard one of the others pull out their radio and contact backup. He couldn't help but figure that they were going to need it.

The man's shoulders squared suddenly and he turned slowly to face them, the knife still primed at the SeeD's neck, his left hand still wrapped tightly around his throat, and it nearly caused him to shit himself. The look of anger, disgust and utter hatred was apparent on the guy's features; he looked absolutely nuts! He was breathing deeply, as though trying to keep his calm, but he didn't know exactly how long the assailant was going to be able to keep himself from snapping, if that was what he was trying to prevent.

"You're gonna stop me from killing this killer?" the man shouted. "A punk who, by all rights, should've burned in hell by now? You're gonna accuse me of trying to murder someone who took all those lives! I'm a fucking _hero_ for fucks sakes!"

"Drop your weapon." Burton stated in an even tone. He knew Leonhart had to pay for his crimes, but killing him wouldn't solve anything. "Put your hands behind your head and kneel to the ground facing away from us."

"Fuck you!" the man screamed. "You think your brand of 'justice'll' solve anything? You're fucking dumber than you look! Nothing's gonna happen to him! _Nothing_! All because his fucking father's the fucking President!"

Burton nearly dropped his weapon, and judging from a surprised gasp from his left and the man on his right's jaw opening and closing repeatedly, he wasn't the only one shocked by the revelation. Leonhart also appeared shocked for a moment; either he hadn't known or no one else was 'sposed to, Burton couldn't tell for sure, but he couldn't let it cloud his judgement. If he was gonna walk for killing all those people, why would he be there in the first place?

"He's here now, isn't he?" Burton asked calmly, trying to keep the guy from flying off the deep end and killing someone. "Why would he walk if he's been locked up?"

"It's just for fucking show!" the guy screamed out, having none of it. "The government'll cover it up; keep the specifics outta the press and when something new comes up, they'll forget all about Jack and the others who're killed! So _I _have to do something about it!"

The man turned back around, and Burton raised his firearm once again, having lowered it in his shock. "If you move any closer to him, I will shoot you."

"Not before my own justice is done." The guy said over his shoulder. "I'm gonna make sure your fucked up system doesn't let him get away with it, even if I have to gut him myself!"

"Don't make another move!" the man beside Burton spoke.

"I can't fucking believe this!" the man said. "I can't believe you're trying to save a murderer! This is bullshit!"

"If you kill him, he won't pay." Burton said. "If he's really the man who killed those people…"

Burton was cut off when the man laughed outright. "That's what the fucking problem is. If this was any other average jackass who'd committed the crimes, he'd have already been put behind bars by now! The only reason he isn't is because his fucking father is too dip-shit terrified to watch his son go through all of that!"

"I assure you that everything is being done to ensure that justice is served." Burton responded, but he could tell it wasn't working. This guy was just too far into his own belief to listen to reason.

"No!" he shouted, and Burton started a bit. "Jack was killed! Butchered by this bastard and I'm going to see to it that he pays for it."

"I didn't kill your brother." Leonhart managed to say – the guy had tightened his grip around his throat repeatedly since Burton's arrival. "And I don't know who did."

"Lemme guess," the guy sneered. "You're gonna tell me that you were set up; that someone else who looks exactly like you, with the same scar and everything, managed to waltz right through security when no one else could have, killed those people and got the fuck out before anyone could stop him?"

Burton had to admit; it did sound farfetched, and with the Lunar Cry and everything else, he'd thought he'd heard everything. The man spat on the ground. "Hope you don't fucking blame me for not buying it."

"You can believe whatever you want." Leonhart said. "And I'm not trying to talk you out of anything. I didn't kill your brother."

Burton realized that saying that had been a mistake. The man's eyes turned even more livid – if that was even possible – and he gripped the knife so tight he thought it was gonna break – either the handle, the guy's hand or even both. He raised the knife a few inches and even managed to draw blood and Leonhart actually winced from the pain.

The guy pulled back, and Burton and the others primed their weapons, ready to open fire when he heard a gun fire from behind. The next thing he knew, the guy was down and Leonhart was on the ground, gripping at the wound at his throat. The guy cradled his shoulder – where Burton could see blood trailing down onto the ground. His men moved over to check both the assailant and Leonhart, and Burton looked to see who had been the one responsible for firing the weapon.

* * *

Having made a dead sprint down the corridor, he heard his radio pick up. When he went to answer it, he had heard talking, and had chosen to listen – from the sounds of it, it was obvious that whoever was relaying this couldn't talk, or his or her cover would be blown.

James hadn't stopped moving even as he'd listened to the conversation between Jay and the assailant. From the sounds of it, Burton's team had found the accomplice first, but the accomplice already found Leonhart. He had known he would have to hurry – he didn't believe that Jay would stall if he knew he could handle it without James' help.

Turning the corner, he'd caught sight of the assailant - he'd looked like an assailant – pinning Leonhart to the wall. The instant he saw the knife, he'd raised his fire arm, knowing that negotiations were pointless at this stage. The man had drawn back after a moment, probably about to finish the job and James had hoped he'd hit the accomplice rather than the prisoner.

James was grateful that he had impeccable aim.

He replaced the weapon into its holster and attempted to at least catch his breath before reporting back to the President. An overwhelming feeling of accomplishment filled him, and he couldn't very well blame himself – after all he'd managed to prevent another murder on Estharian soil. Sure, he'd had to shoot the guy, but a look from the guard inspecting him revealed that the injury wasn't life threatening. Far from it, in fact.

However, he knew that this wasn't over yet. This man and the sniper had been in league and he wanted to know why. Questions began to flood his mind, but he shook them off, even as Christine's theories began to make a little more sense.

He tried to find a reason to negate the theories; that he man was probably grieving for a family member who was killed and had tried to take the law into his own hands. Though James couldn't blame him, he knew that there were better ways to deal with things than breaking the law yourself.

The man – whoever he was – was now being placed into custody, and Leonhart was being seen to, in case he had been injured – James had seen Leonhart grip his throat as he'd slid to the ground. From what he could see himself, it wasn't at all serious, though it might leave a scar. At least that was one good thing he could report.

Finally, the secretary picked up and he requested to speak to the President and, after one moment, he was patched through. "What's the status of the situation?" President Loire asked almost immediately.

"We have it under control." James answered. "The intruder is being detained. The prisoner was injured, but it's minor; nothing that magic and time won't cure."

It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't known exactly which prisoner it was that had been attacked and he frowned to himself, knowing that by saying what he had, there would be questions that would need answering.

"Someone was attacked?" the President asked. "Who?"

James took a deep breath, mentally asking himself what his foot tasted like. "The sniper attack was all a distraction, in order for the sniper's partner to attack Leonhart. Fortunately my men were able to act accordingly and managed to keep him from killing him."

"Why was he attacked?"

"As it stands I can only speculate sir," James offered as a response, knowing he wouldn't like it. "But my men are looking into it."

The President was silent on his end for a moment and James vaguely wondered what it was he was going to say next. Knowing that your son is a wanted criminal, but also a target for someone else couldn't have been good for him, and he wondered exactly what his next move was going to be.

"I want my son moved to solitary confinement." The President stated, stressing the title. "I don't want anything like what happened now to repeat itself. And I don't want him out of your sight for the time being. You are to keep an eye on him at all times, and if anything out of the ordinary happens, I want you to contact me immediately."

"Understood sir."

The communication was cut off and James frowned outwardly. Despite how serious the situation was as well as the meaning behind the orders, he couldn't believe that, as the Chief of Security, he had been placed on baby-sitting detail. The implications of this order were far greater than most people would give credit to, but he just couldn't believe it. It wasn't that he was insulted by the order, but with what had happened the last time he had been stationed in this position…

James shook his head to clear it, well aware that his mental musings were wasting time that they couldn't afford to have wasted. He looked up in time to watch the assailant escorted away from the premises, probably being placed in interrogation, before approaching Jay to commend him on his efforts. The man had appeared slightly shaken before but upon seeing him coming, his expression changed to that of solid determination. James wondered briefly about the change, but he didn't have to wonder for long.

"That man," Jay said, inclining his head back into the direction the assailant was being dragged to. "he said that Leonhart and the President are related; that President Loire is his father. Is that true?"

James' eyes immediately shot open as he redirected his gaze back towards the man they held in custody. It wasn't possible that he knew that connection; no one in Esthar did, save for himself, the Estharian General, a few of the soldiers, the President, his friends and his niece. Very few others knew; from what he understood, no one save for a small circle in Garden knew, so the fact that this man – seemingly a civilian – had access to this information set him on alert.

"Sir," Jay continued. "it really is true, isn't it? Then what are we supposed to do?"

James turned to look at Jay, knowing full well that he believed deeply in the system, and that knowing such a critical piece of information had shaken him. Keeping his facial expression perfectly neutral, he stared at his subordinate in all seriousness and answered his question as he walked towards the prisoner. "Your job. That's what you're supposed to do."

James then moved away from Jay and approached the secured inmate. From what he could see, Leonhart had been cut, but not severely, and it wasn't bleeding much. The only real thing he had suffered was a lack of oxygen, but it looked as though he was beginning to recover from that.

After telling one of his men to report to interrogation, he turned his attention towards the inmate. Leonhart glanced up when he realized he was being watched. James could tell his expression turned grim; despite the fact he was a prisoner, Leonhart was also a target; to who was the main question and because of the attack, things had just become a whole lot more complicated. "You are to be placed in solitary confinement until we determine the reason for the attack and why they are targeting you. Nevertheless, you are still seen as a suspect for the infiltration and homicide of the five people murdered this morning."

Leonhart didn't need to say anything for James to know he understood; the expression on his face gave it away. It was almost as though he had seen it coming. "Also, you are to remain under my supervision until further notice. Nothing happens unless I say it happens. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Leonhart stated evenly.

"Good." James nodded curtly. "Then let me just say this. This protection does not come solely because of your father, nor does it mean I believe you are innocent in this whole situation. What it means is that a man just tried to play the part of a vigilante and as the head of Security it is my job to secure the Residence and make sure another attempt does not take place. It is the job of the courts to decide the outcome of a crime; whether someone is found innocent or guilty and, though there are times where no one believes it will work, our only option is to follow the law to the fullest."

Turning towards the remaining security officer, James nodded in his direction and Leonhart was helped to his feet, and escorted to the infirmary, James following closely behind the entire time.

* * *

"When did this happen?" Quistis asked.

After learning that Squall had been placed in a holding cell, everyone had headed towards that specific location in the hopes of maybe talking to him. Quistis knew that there was much to be done if they wanted to prove his innocence, but at the same time she also had to face the facts that it would have to wait until someone watched those damned tapes. Because Caraway had them shipped off to Dollet, that wouldn't happen for however long they'd have to wait for a trail.

Then they'd received word that an attack had taken place in the prisons – not at all a coincidence in Quistis' mind and it appeared as though everyone else agreed with her – and they'd been livid to discover they were only just hearing about it at present.

"An attack took place just before 0930 this morning." The poor soldier who was taking the brunt of their frustrations answered. "As a result, the prison sector has been shut down and is currently being investigated."

"But you just said you caught the guy!" Selphie protested. "Doesn't that mean it's safe to go in?"

The soldier shook his head. "I'm afraid that an investigation is still being carried out. Because of the sudden appearance of both the sniper as well as his accomplice, it is being assumed that it was an inside job. Someone must have allowed them entrance into the building so they would be able to cause the attacks. The sniper, unfortunately, killed himself before the guards could detain him, but the accomplice has just been arrested and is being taken to interrogation."

"Then we should have been told about this as soon as it happened." The Headmaster exclaimed. Standing beside her husband, Edea nodded in agreement.

"Sorry, but my orders come from the President or my Commanding officer." The soldier explained. "I received my orders through them, and I was not instructed to search you out in order to inform you of the current situation until just now. You'll have to take it up with them."

The soldier saluted them before heading off, possibly to his next post. Quistis frowned; if an attack had taken place, then it could mean the real assailants weren't too happy with the way Squall was handling the situation. It was possible that they hadn't intended for him to surrender in the first place.

"Well _that _was helpful." Zell muttered sarcastically. "he didn't even tell us _how_ they caught the guy."

"I guess we'll find out more when we speak to Laguna." Irvine shrugged. "And I think if Squall had been seriously hurt in the attack, he'd have told us."

"And with any luck," Selphie surmised. "we might even be able to check in on him."

"After all that, they'd better." Rinoa said.

* * *

Christine sighed in relief, collapsing into a nearby chair as the soldier left her office. James was alright, Leonhart was still alive, and one of the two attackers was in custody. She and James were going to have words about the whole incident; he seemed to be attracting too much trouble for her taste these days.

Still, the knowledge that an attack had taken place was odd in itself, unless of course Leonhart had managed to piss off a few extremists. There were people who wanted the SeeD to pay for the attacks earlier in the morning, even if they didn't know Leonhart was standing as the accused, but Christine wouldn't have put it passed any of them to actually take matters into their own hands.

Though she had to admit, if James had been one of the people murdered – a very likely scenario since he had been there when it had happened – she'd be out for his blood as well.

Still, it didn't make very much sense. From what she'd learned from his file, and from meeting with him face to face, she knew Leonhart wasn't stupid. To try and take on the whole planet by himself was suicide; he'd have to have a group of his own to back him up. It was obvious that those who were closest to him were oblivious to this fact – no one was _that_ good at lying – and if those people were responsible for the attacks, then why not break him out rather than have him killed.

Which brought two possible outcomes to mind; either one, they didn't want to be implicated just yet and wanted to remove all trace evidence of their involvement in the murders or two, Leonhart was innocent and the attackers wanted him to shut up.

Christine had to admit; the first possibility was plausible if you forgot the fact they left one of their own alive. But that might have been a mistake on their part – no one was perfect after all. But suffice it to say, Christine was leaning more towards the second option. If she thought of Leonhart as the murderer everyone was looking for, it seemed a bit too easy for her; like she was reading a story and the beginning chapters concluded a specific character when in actuality he had been innocent all along.

Either way, she wanted answers and she sure as hell was going to get them.

* * *

James exhaled the breath he'd been holding after his report had been made. He'd also included that Janice Spelling – a good friend of his as well as an excellent officer herself – would be heading the interrogation on Anderson. He wanted to know exactly how much it was that Anderson knew, and how he came across that kind of Intel.

The President himself looked relieved at the news – who could blame him? – but James still had some added information he needed to bring forth. "Although somehow, I don't think this is the end of it all, even with the failure of these attacks."

"Go on," President Loire said.

"Given the fact that Leonhart was attacked, it could mean he isn't in this alone. It might also mean that his capture jeopardized the plan and the members of this organization were sent in with the specific purpose of keeping him quiet. This is supported by the fact that both the sniper and his accomplice somehow managed to get inside of the prison and carry out their plan of attack before security could stop them."

"But it could also mean he's innocent." The President persevered before stopping. "Sorry; that was my personal impute. Scrap it from the record and continue."

"Already scrapped, sir." James stated, but in all honesty he couldn't blame him. Though he had no children, if it was a family member being accused of a crime, he'd want very much to believe they were innocent as well. "Also, Anderson knew quite a bit of information he shouldn't have been privy to."

"Such as?"

"Your relation to the accused." James concluded. "Somehow he managed to find out that he's your son."

"Do you think we have a mole?" the President asked.

"Sir, I believe that is a very probable possibility. I also suspect that there is more than one mole positioned in Esthar. No one mole could have helped to manipulate today's events as faultlessly as this. And since only a select few personnel in Esthar are even aware of this fact, it narrows down the number a lot."

"Though I don't think they wanted us to apprehend Anderson," Loire added. "No one's perfect. We have to assume at this point in time that Anderson was a loose end they expected would have been killed in the attack. Fortunately that wasn't the case. You're still as good a shot as ever."

James shrugged, though he had to admit he had been very lucky to only shoot Anderson in the shoulder. "Also, in case you wanted to know, Donaldson's injury was not as severe as we first believed. It was a through-and-through – the bullet was located outside, just a few feet away from where he'd been shot."

"That's definitely good news. Do you know if he knows anything?"

"Not at this time, no. Though it's possible he was merely a bystander."

"Well, keep an eye on the situation." Loire said. "We can't have a repeat of what happened down there. I'm already making preparations, but that doesn't mean we can't be lax about this. I want you to double the teams who're presently on duty."

"Yes sir." James said and left the room shortly thereafter.

* * *

Harold headed towards the conference room for the umpteenth time that day. He knew his feet were going to be seriously blistered from the days exercise, but that was the least of his concerns. He pulled out his cell phone, attached his scrambler so that the number could not be traced back to him, and dialled a specific number.

The attack had gone almost according to plan; the sniper had missed his target, resulting in chaos, but that punk Anderson somehow managed to survive. He was currently in interrogation and anything he knew the President was going to be made well aware of within the hour.

He couldn't afford to allow that to happen.

Finally, someone managed to pick up the phone. "It's me." He stated. "The pawn was caught, before he could kill Leonhart. The SeeD is still alive, just as you ordered."

"Excellent." The voice on the opposite end stated; a female voice. "Then this means all is going according to plan."

"Not necessarily." Harold remarked. "The pawn wasn't one of ours originally; he was just some run-of-the-mill punk I managed to puppeteer into doing my dirty work. He might point a few fingers at a few of my informants that might just lead back to me."

"Not a problem." The woman assured. "If the next phase of the plan goes accordingly, then you won't have to worry about those fools finding out who you're really working for. But that's hardly the issue here. What do they plan to do now that an attack has taken place?"

"No doubt they'll want to prevent it from happening again." Harold said. "Chances are they'll move him from his present location and relocate in another country."

"Which is exactly what we want them to do. All we have to do is wait for a decision to be made – anywhere they wish to send him is fine after all – and place the ball in our court. We barely even need to lift a finger at this point."

Harold smiled, definitely reassured with the news. "You're right; you're absolutely right. Soon I won't have to lower myself to working with these fools anymore."

"Exactly." The woman said. "But I hear you've been having some difficulties."

"I'm not sure of what you're implying." Harold said, the smile having dropped from his features.

"I'm talking about that bitch, Lockhart. My own sources tell me she's not convinced of Leonhart's guilt. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Harold had to admit, the woman had a point. Out of everyone else on the cabinet, Christine Lockhart was the closest to discovering his true intentions; what with his constant objections to her snooping about. He knew what this woman was planning however and understood that it wouldn't work out in their favour. "Attacking Lockhart directly is out of the question. She's too resilient and will take it as a personal challenge."

"But what if we killed her?" the woman asked.

"Also out of the question." Harold said. "The entire cabinet would be under scrutiny. I'd be the one at the top of the list of suspects."

"I figured as much," the woman said. "Though there is a way to get to her. I've been watching quite a bit of the surveillance footage from our bugs. She does have one weakness you could easily exploit."

At first, Harold didn't know what she was talking about, but after a second to think about it, he figured it out. It was just so obvious. " Logans was here when the first attacks took place, and when she heard he was in the prisons at the time of the next attack, she was shaken."

"Exactly." The woman said. " Logans is a risk in itself – if given enough time he could hurt our plans, but if something were to happen to him before that could occur, not only would it extinguish a possible nuisance, but the bitch won't be much cause for worry in the long run."

"She'd be far too concerned to think straight." Harold said. "She wouldn't stand a chance."

"Then I'll leave the rest to your capable hands." The woman on the other end stated before the connection was lost.

* * *

**_9:00:00 _**


	8. Hour 8

**

* * *

**

04/11/2007:

Shorter than most chapters, but obviously its the reason why this update was so quick. Next chapter will most definitely be longer.

Chapter Edited: **07/19/2007**

* * *

_**The following takes place between 9am and 10am.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

* * *

His visit to the infirmary had been relatively quick and, just as Logan's had said, he had been placed in solitary confinement; a prospect that didn't bother him too much. The room was considerably smaller than his previous cell; housing one bed, a sink and a toilet. The bars were replaced with a sliding door with a small slot positioned near the top; probably so that the guards could keep an eye on him.

The way that his attacker had glared at him was still etched into his mind, but it hadn't had the shaking affect it was supposed to. He had seen his fair share of attempts at his life through the very short time he had been a SeeD, and had managed to maintain his composure during the face of it all. But it had felt different somehow; maybe because he hadn't actually _done_ anything to warrant the attack. Someone had led the man – Jack Anderson's brother, from what he could recall from interrogation – to believe that he had been responsible for those murders, which meant that whoever was responsible for framing him didn't like how things were playing out.

Maybe they hadn't wanted him to surrender in Deling, to be interrogated by the Estharians and be held inside of a holding cell, cooperating and patiently waiting for the evidence that would clear him. He had been framed for a reason; and the fact that his cooperation was helping the authorities figure out the truth was going against their plans. No, Squall was fairly certain whoever had set him up had expected him to hightail it to the Garden and come up with a plan that way.

_The fact that Anderson knew I was related to Laguna is another big factor,_ he thought to himself as he lay back on top of the mattress, his hands positioned behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He found that he was doing this a lot lately.

Squall wondered if they were using that knowledge just to get at Laguna; to force him to have to choose between family and his obligations. Squall already knew the answer to this question; neither was very close to each other, but Laguna would want to do everything in his power to keep him safe, even if it meant compromising his position as President.

_Maybe that's what they're betting on_, Squall thought to himself. _Maybe they don't want Laguna in power; they want to get rid of him by forcing him into this position, and in doing so, they're using me to get to him. _

He knew he couldn't let it happen, but there was very little he could do about it. He was stuck in solitary confinement and had Logans watching his every movement until the sniper attack was thoroughly dealt with. He didn't have any suspects; didn't know who was working against the Estharian government and if he accused the wrong person without any facts or proof, it wouldn't help him in the long run and he would go down for a murder he didn't commit.

_Still, they have to figure out what they're doing in the meantime. They may choose to get me out of the country; make sure an attack can't happen again. It won't be in Dollet; at least not yet; they'd want to make sure the preparations for the trail are all set up. Timber is also out of the question, same with Deling. Balamb would be seen as biased, and Trabia doesn't really have any place to hold me, not to mention Trabia Garden is close enough for the country to be dismissed. _

Sighing, Squall closed his eyes knowing that guessing where he was going was going to take some time. There were a few possible locations, but only one of them would be suitable, and on top of that he had these terrorists to contend with. His gut tightened, telling him that whatever situation he thought he was in, things were about to get even worse.

He grinned as things were finally set into motion. He'd just received a report on the so-called assassination attempt and was elated to know that Leonhart had not died in the attack, as the pawn had thought he would. Anderson was a brash man, not at all what he would have liked to work with, but he had played his part well. He wasn't a part of the cause, so it was inevitable that he would talk to the Estharian authorities; tell them what the original plan was. They might even finally register them as the remaining members of the true regime.

He had heard of Schipner's worry over their sudden discovery, but he was elated by it. Finally, those morons would know who it was that would destroy their sense of rule, and perhaps they would cower in fear at the sheer mention of their organization. The latter seemed improbable, simply because those pathetic citizens would look to their equally pathetic president for a means to defeat them. Loire had been lucky when tricking Adel into becoming trapped in outer space and thoroughly cheap as he had had his son's team kill her as she was just regaining consciousness. But even cheap luck ran dry eventually, and he would thoroughly enjoy watching the man squirm under pressure; being forced to choose between his citizen's lives and his own son's freedom.

He had received word that his current guest had been re-apprehended; trying to escape via the underground docks. He had scoffed; the girl had no physical power to defend herself and had easily succumbed to the tranquilizers his men had pumped into her. She would be asleep for a little while; probably awakening just in time to watch the fire works.

Clasping his hands together, he watched the screen with the Security Chief, recalling his subordinate's words and grinning as he realized the truth in them. The Psychiatrist was becoming closer and closer to discovering the truth about her co-worker, and it would be a shame if she spoiled everyone's fun too soon. Her boyfriend would be useful cannon fodder for their cause; the man was also a security risk and far too loyal to Loire than he would have liked.

He continued to watch the screen, all the while wondering what it was Schipner had up his sleeve this time.

* * *

Janice Spelling was impressed with the amount of progress they had made.

The prisoner had been escorted by security to Interrogation 1, been seated and forced to wait for her arrival. She had entered the room no more than ten minutes later, accompanied by two Estharian Soldiers, in case the man was a fighter. She hadn't been at all impressed by his appearance; simply t-shirt, pair of jeans and boots. He wasn't a well built person; probably didn't work out very often either. The man had been shot; a gauze bandage wrapped secured around his right shoulder.

At first she hadn't thought he was going to co-operate; that the interrogation was going to last throughout the day, but she had been presently surprised when the man had started talking within the first few minutes. His name was Robert 'Bobby' Daniel Anderson and it turned out that his older brother, Jack Harvard Anderson, was one of the five people killed during the attack. Someone had called him around seven that morning, and told him everything that had taken place, including who was the suspect and where he was being held. After that, Janice sent a group of officers over towards the surveillance chambers, in order to sort through footage that would help them find out exactly how Anderson's brother was able to enter the prison section without being detected by the metal detectors or sighted by any of the guards.

"Give a full report to Officer Logan's as well as the President." Spelling ordered her men. "They need to know that there is a traitor in our midst and that we need to find him."

Nodding, the men picked up radios and began their reports and she turned back to the double-sided mirror, watching the prisoner they held in captivity left is silence with the interrogators, staring blankly at the table set before him.

* * *

Shutting off his radio, he stared at the screen of his laptop, sitting in the secret area of the Training Center. As soon as the rug rats had been hauled off by the SeeD, he'd waited for a few minutes before sneaking inside himself, grateful that the air conditioning unit still worked. He'd been practically dripping sweat by the time he'd finally moved.

Ever since he'd stayed in the exact same place. It was just after 0200; no way was SeeD letting anyone else inside the Training Center this late; at least not without a weapon. He wasn't worried; he knew exactly where to hide in order to keep from being detected – they'd been cadets but they hadn't even heard him come in and out.

From what he'd learned about the situation in Esthar, two more people had been attacked, though unlike the original five, they'd survived. Both of them were prisoners in the Estharian penitentiary, and as far as the authorities knew there were only two attackers. One of them was in custody and the other killed himself before the same could've been said about him. As far as he could tell, the Estharians were haulin' all ass in order to keep the specifics out of the press, but he was pretty certain he knew who was one of the ones attacked.

Though he could tell that things were beginning to bubble to the surface. And what a hell of a time for it too.

He didn't know where the leaks were coming from, or who was the one responsible for them, but hell if he was complaining. Even though he was technically supposed to be gathering information about the Garden, he had a very strong feeling that both the events in Garden and Esthar were connected. No chance that the frame up and the events in Esthar were a coincidence. Well, whoever was feeding the media the info was probably sitting in front of his or her television set, hands clasped and watching as his puppets did his dirty work for him.

He figured out who one of them was pretty quickly. From what he had been hearing on the news as of late, Squall Leonhart was being held on charges of murder – a bogus allegation at the best of times, but a serious one nonetheless – so obviously someone was bound to try and take him out before he became even more dangerous or whatever the reason was.

_No doubt they're gonna move him too._ He thought to himself.

It'd be stupid to just leave the SeeD there; after all, more attempts on his life wouldn't look good on Esthar's Correction Institutions. They'd put him somewhere no one'd expect before the trial. That is, if there was really gonna be one – he was convinced the officials would rig it to convict everyone's favourite hero.

Even as he moved to another page of information, he heard the PA system sound up and looked up immediately. It was strange since most people were already in bed at the time. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this; had he slipped? Had he actually been caught after all this time of hiding out? He didn't think so, but from past experiences he knew it was a possibility.

From what he'd learned about the good Commander, he didn't like him too much. Took his job seriously, always shut himself into his office to do his work, and pressed his uniform so it didn't have any creases or lines or whatever – the complete opposite of him. In his opinion, if you had time to iron your clothes, you could use it to keep up with your skills instead of wasting your time.

"Attention residence of Garden," Greenwood's annoying voice echoed through the empty area. "As some of you have been made aware, there was an attack in the Estharian Presidential Residence earlier in the day. And some of you are also well aware that there are rumours that a SeeD was arrested for the crime."

He frowned deeply, knowing that this was a huge mistake. From everything he'd guess about the terrorists, announcing to everyone in the Garden that everyone's favourite hero was being accused of the murders was playing right into their hands. He wondered briefly how stupid this new guy was and if he really was cut out for the job he was charged with.

"The SeeD was apprehended from the Galbadian Capital, Deling City, during a mission under the Galbadian Government. He is being wrongfully accused of the crime, having had no possible way of being in Esthar during the time of the crime and returning to the Capital without being traced and caught but the Galbadian government. The man I am talking about is none other than Squall Leonhart."

Just as the announcement had been sounded and the exact same time he cursed the Commander's stupidity, he felt his cellphone vibration. He wondered vaguely why his source was contacting him when he said he'd be unavailable for the time being even as he answered the device.

* * *

**9:11:54**

* * *

Christine kept glancing between her computer screen and the file folders that lay on her desk, before scribbling down something onto a notepad. Once that was done, the cycle would begin anew; the woman spending near two to three minutes looking for information before writing something down.

Christine had taken to doing this while she was studying in college – it was a good idea; borrow a video, head to the library to borrow some books, go home and take notes on the both of them in order to compare facts.

That was what she was doing now; looking over the surveillance footage of the attack that took place nearly half an hour prior, and the files she still had on the suspect. She was nearing the end of the confrontation and she had drawn up the conclusion that Squall Leonhart was, in fact, innocent. She didn't have any concrete proof, but she sure as hell was convinced he wasn't their murderer.

Christine turned off the security tapes and put away the file, staring at the notes she'd compiled already. If he wasn't guilty, then obviously he was being set up. It had to be the work of a group – no one person could pull something this huge off without any help. And the obvious reason for setting him up was simply – he killed Adel, a feat that had, up until the very day it had happened, been believed to have been impossible. He'd also been responsible for the end of the most recent Sorceress War – something that still puzzled everyone who wasn't involved in the actual act.

Those two actions made him out to be quite an intimidating person. Piled with Anderson's knowledge on the relationship between both SeeD and Estharian President, and what other reason could there be? She realized that the possibility that the Estharian government was the one being targeted and not just its citizens was also probably. But what she didn't know was the kind of organization behind all of this. It would have to have connections across the globe for the kind of Intel they possess, and they apparently have no qualms with sacrificing their own people; look at Anderson and the sniper.

As Christine continued to mull these facts, she began to realize there was some kind of conspiracy plot taking place. It was like some kind of mystery – the truth lay in the facts and evidence they'd already received and yet so many more answers were being held just out of reach.

She sighed out loud, resting her chin on the palm of her left hand. It was a good thing she really loved reading mystery novels.

* * *

The door to the Presidential Residence slid open and the Headmaster emerged, his facial expression showing relief. Everyone else, who was waiting in the hallway, relaxed upon seeing his features, but Rinoa could tell that there was something she was missing.

The former Instructor beat her to the punch though. "What happened?"

"I can't imagine why you were fired as an Instructor." Cid stated sincerely. "Anderson – that's the name of the accomplice to the sniper – knew some things he shouldn't have had any access to whatsoever. He knew in perfect detail what had happened earlier this morning, and about the invasion in Deling City. The fact that he knew Squall was being held responsible was another red flag. But more importantly…"

Cid lowered his voice and everyone looked around, making sure no one was within hearing distance. Whatever he was to say next obviously couldn't be heard by anyone else. "Anderson knew about Squall and Laguna."

"But, but… that's impossible!" Zell exclaimed. It was a miracle no one heard him. "How could he have known they are father and son?"

"Because he had outside information; possibly given to him by someone with access to it." Cid answered simply. "Esthar suspects a traitor in their organization, with good reason I should say."

"So what happens next?" Irvine asked.

"Obviously, Squall can't stay here any longer than he has." Cid began. "If Anderson was approached by the traitor, there's a distinct possibility the same thing will happen with another existing family member of one of the victims. Those people deserve to know that the government is doing what they can in order to find the real perpetrator; they don't need to be further grieved by false accusations."

Cid sighed again and Rinoa didn't like where this was going. "Which is why the government plans to move Squall somewhere remote, where he won't have any contact with anyone on the outside until preparations for the trial have been completed in Dollet."

"That's ludicrous!" Quistis exclaimed. "Procedure must be followed, I understand that, but—"

"I don't like it either, Quistis, but it has to be done." Cid said. "Chances are if something like this happens again, he may not be so lucky. The real murderer obviously doesn't believe Squall is going to be held for very much longer; more questions are revealing themselves, despite the many accusations against him, so they want to shut him up."

Rinoa wanted to argue; to scream and shout and protest that everything that was happening wasn't at all fair, but she knew the Headmaster had a good point. No one wanted to see Squall die, especially not while everyone saw him as a murderer and indeed the attempts on his life would continue if he wasn't relocated. "Have they decided where he's going to go?" The Sorceress asked.

Cid nodded. "Laguna has managed to pull a few strings. He'll be held at the Shumi Village. Though Shumis are peace loving, they are very selective in who appears in their hidden village. Since they know Squall from his numerous visits in the past, and he's related to Laguna, the Elder granted the request."

"When is he leaving?" Rinoa asked with hesitation.

The Headmaster sighed heavily once again before he answered. "1000 hrs… sooner if they can arrange it."

* * *

"And you're saying that someone attempted to kill him with all of those witnesses?" Ibrihim asked, to which Laguna nodded.

"I'm not very happy about it either; it means we've got a leak on this end. Probably the same person who's responsible for the frame up."

"It's possible." Ibrihim agreed. "If he continues to deny his involvement, eventually someone will start to listen, maybe even believe him. Whoever set him up won't want that."

"I just wish there was more that I could do." Laguna said. "I'm the President and my hands are tied."

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't." Ibrihim nodded. "I know the feeling. So you're moving him to a remote location. Wouldn't be surprised if you chose not to tell me."

"Wish I could, but it's for security reasons and, no offence, but if I were to just hand over that information to you it'd ruin the whole point."

"Understandable." Ibrihim said. "Though I may have some good news for you for once."

"I'm listening."

"I've managed to calm down the military. They still want to invade Esthar, but I've made it perfectly clear that they are not to do so unless I give the order."

"You're not going to though, right?"

Laguna sounded a little worried that his former superior would order an attack and for good reason; Ibrihim had been a military General for nearly seventeen years before his impromptu promotion. "I assure you, your country would have to overstep their boundaries once more before I'd give the order."

"So stay low on your radar." Laguna said. "Got it."

Ibrihim chuckled. "Besides, Esthar isn't worth the economic drop we'd have if we chose to attack anyway."

"Thanks…I think."

* * *

He clasped his hands together as he stared thoughtfully in front of him, commending Schipner on his plotting and scheming. He didn't even think Cobatchi had seen it coming, it was so utterly brilliant. Within the next hour or so, the plan would be set into motion and there would be nothing but disarray to greet the revival of the old regime. The fools in the Residence thought they had outfoxed them, but in all honesty, he couldn't wait to see each and every one of them pay for their crimes against the true leader of the country.

In his books, Schipner had proven himself worthy of their cause, even though the old coot had been a part of their ranks for the past decade or so. However, it didn't mean he trusted him. On the contrary; he believed if a man was this capable of deceiving a group of people for his own means, it could mean the rise of ambition. Schipner might even grow to believe himself to be far greater than that of the regime and the thought of it was unacceptable. As much as he admired Schipner for his persistence given the circumstances, he also understood that the time would soon come where he must decide whether Schipner's deceptive ways could be ignored entirely.

* * *

She had been checking on the security systems within the garden when she had seen it; a flicker of movement in the Training Center. She paused the security tape and rewound the image, stopping and watching as the unknown figure was sitting at against a wall and looking at a laptop. She knew he wasn't from Garden; most of the cadets and SeeDs had already gone to bed.

She watched the tape after a few minutes, certain that the intruder was set up in the Secret Area in the Training Center. She had thought it was an Estharian, attempting to pay back SeeD for a crime they hadn't committed, but there was something local about him that made her sceptical of the notion. It set her off edge and she didn't like it one bit.

Pausing the video once more, she tried to zoom in, in order to get a better look at the intruder, thinking she might be able to identify him. Frowning, she figured that she should have known; for someone to have been able to sneak into the Garden undetected they would have to be able to avoid detection on both the motion sensors and the security cameras stationed at every corner of every room. Even though she now knew he was there, she couldn't get a good angle in on his face.

She removed the communications device from her hip holster and held down the button as she sent her page. A moment later, a male voice answered her back. "Security."

"Send a squad down to the Training Center. There's an intruder hiding out in the Secret Area."

"Understood ma'am."

Xu cut off the transmission before starting another one. As soon as someone picked up on the other end, Xu threw aside the formalities and jumped right into her report. "Commander Greenwood, we have a situation…"

* * *

**9:34:11**

* * *

The guards had arrived at his cell during his mental musings. They'd opened the door and told him that he was being moved to another location for his protection. Neither seemed thoroughly impressed with the idea of protecting a prisoner, but they handcuffed him and escorted him down the hallway all the same.

Squall couldn't say he was altogether satisfied that his assumptions had been correct; in fact he was a little unnerved. Of course the obvious choice was to move him to a more secure and isolated location, but he couldn't help but feel as though they were making a mistake. It was as though everything was beginning to fall together the more he thought about it – whoever staged the attack hadn't wanted him to die right away, but get him away from the Estharians, but to do what exactly? Anderson was a novice - that was for certain; if whoever framed him wanted him dead, wouldn't they have hired someone who knew how to do the job?

He would have felt better had he been able to keep his junctions, but because of the circumstances he had given them to the Chief of Security as a measure to prove he was willing to co-operate. Thinking back on it, it was a bad call on his part and he should have listened to Ward in the first place.

_Now is not the time to second guess yourself._ His mind rationalized. _Something is about to go very wrong and you know it. You need to focus; otherwise knowing what's coming won't help you._

So he knew that Anderson was being used as a distraction, and that it was possible the Estharians were playing into the terrorists hands. What he didn't know was what he could do to stop it. They wanted him out of the country, but then what did they plan to do? They wanted him alive, but for what reason? What role would he have to play in all of this?

It suddenly came to him, and it would have shocked him into stopping his stride had the guard behind him not pushed him forward. His connection was between Garden and Esthar; Garden because he was a SeeD and, as much as he was loath to this information, the populace of Garden looked up to him and respected him. He had been raised there for almost his entire life; everyone who lived there was connected to him somehow.

In Esthar, there weren't nearly as many ties to him, but they were equally as significant to him. There was Ellone, the only real family he had ever truly known. Then of course there was the fact he had assisted the government in getting rid of Adel as well as Ultimecia, but the most binding factor was the relationship, or lack there of, between himself and his father, who just so happened to be the President. The terrorists knew about this connection, and were probably hoping that it was affecting Laguna as much as possible.

_This might even be the basis of a coup __d'état._ He thought to himself. If whoever was in control of this entire ordeal was planning to overthrow Laguna then he was going about it the right way. The people wouldn't want any hardship to come over them and, if a war broke out, once it dissipated then the terrorist could use it as an excuse to overthrow the current government and appeal to the people and take over that way.

There were many risks with this plan, but just as many rewards to be reaped if it were successful. Squall would bet money that there were more than just one traitor placed inside of the government – it would be far too risky to just depend on one person; after all what would they do if the mole was caught or killed?

He knew that he had to do something about it, but he wasn't in any position to be saying anything. If he did, the Estharians might just assume that he was confessing to his involvement. But if he didn't, thousands upon thousands of people were going to suffer through the exact same thing they were only barely recovering from.

_Either way, it'd all be my fault, _he thought to himself bitterly.

Whoever these people were, they had done their level best to tie his hand, and all he could do was hope that the others caught on to this as quickly as he had.

* * *

He was in the midst of rereading some of the information he'd managed to acquire. He heard a T-Rexaur nearby and smirked, knowing the creature was looking for a meal.

As he scanned the Intel on his computer screen, he heard the unmistakeable sound of Grats in the area and his smirked deepened; knowing full well that the larger creature would go after them. He didn't need to watch to know what would result. After a few minutes, he heard the monster roar – a sure fire sign that it had finished its meal.

He paid it no more mind; concentrating solely on the reports in front of him when he suddenly heard the Rexaur again, only this time it was its death cry. Frowning, he wondered if he'd underestimated the cadets in the Garden – they should have been asleep by then – and chanced a glance out from the entrance way leading into the area.

Sure enough, he spotted the cause of the monster's death; a squad of SeeDs already making their way around the mess of lizard. He thought for an instant that this could quiet possibly be a training exercise and that he should make himself scarce when he realized something very important:

They were heading his way.

He quickly disconnected the laptop and strapped it to his chest inside of its case before scrambling up the wall, clinging to the very top and praying they didn't spot him right away. His orders were to avoid any and all contact with the SeeDs and cadets and, up until this point, that hadn't been a problem.

When he was satisfied that the majority of the SeeDs were in the Secret Area, he jumped down behind them. He was then forced to duck into some nearby foliage just outside the area; one of the SeeDs had been very close to spotting him.

He frowned as they searched his former sanctuary, wondering exactly what could have blown his cover. That was when he recalled the positioning of the surveillance cameras and slapped himself in the forehead; he'd gotten sloppy. The worst part was if someone was surveying the tapes right at that very moment, they'd know exactly where he was hiding.

As he tried to calm down, he began to focus his thoughts towards a means of escape. He couldn't see getting around the SeeDs without being spotted and then pursued.

He tried to remember what it was his contact had told him to do in the event he was caught snooping around the Garden and when he did he cursed the man. He didn't like the idea one bit, but he had to admit he must have had a reason to tell him to do exactly that. Silently, he rose to a kneeling position, allowing the SeeDs to see him as he did and rose his hands above his head in the universal sign of surrender. It wasn't like him at all, but unfortunately he had to play this _his_ way… for now at least. Besides, his contact had assured him that he would be left alone if he did just that.

The SeeDs turned to look in his direction before suddenly raising their weapons and firing at him. His eyes widened in shock, but he wasn't stupid enough to stay in one spot as the bastards took pot shots at him. He ducked behind a near by tree and managed to shout over the noise of the weapon fire. "Hey! Don't you fuckers know the meaning of the word 'surrender'?"

Either they didn't listen to him or didn't particularly care; they simply continued to fire and, if someone had to, reloaded and fire again. They bullets imbedded themselves into the tree, breaking off bits of bark and even a couple of branches that surrounded him. Making perfectly sure he hadn't been hit, he realized that there were a couple of holes in his sweater and frowned, knowing he hadn't brought much in the form of clothing to replace it, even as the weapon fire increased. Those holes were in the back of his sweater, but Hyne help him if they managed to hit him in the front.

After all, laptops are very expensive nowadays.

Cursing loudly, he mentally ran through his options before realizing that he was going to have to use force to get out of there alive.

Looking towards his left, he noticed a slightly smaller SeeD closest to him and, silently knowing he was going to go to hell for this on top of other things, he leapt out, charged into the SeeD and held him up, forcing the weapon from the startled male's hands and holding it to his head in the time it took for each of the SeeD's to blink. _Must be getting slower…_ he mentally remarked before glaring at them.

"Shoot at me… I dare you, though I doubt your people'd be happy to hear how this punk turned into Swiss cheese!"

The SeeD hesitated as they watched their own being held hostage and he knew he had the opening he needed. He threw the startled SeeD into his own team-mates and made a run for it, the weapon fire recommencing even as he was making a break for the door.

Just as he barged out of the metal doors separating the Training Center from the rest of the Garden, he stopped and cursed Hyne for all it was worth. Another squadron of SeeDs surrounded the only other exit from the area, weapons raised and magic flaring. The woman standing in the very front looked surprised to see him at first but adjusted her expression into that of a glare. "Place your hands behind your head and get on your knees or we'll shoot. Do it now!"

_Don't you mean _'and _we'll shoot'?_ he thought to himself sardonically, but grudgingly did as he was told anyway, his hands placed behind his head even as the SeeDs pursuing him emerged from the center. He felt the cold metal of the handcuffs wrap around his wrist and was pushed violently onto his stomach, all the while hoping his contact knew what he was doing.

* * *

Schipner smiled in glee as he filed in his most recent report. Things were indeed falling into place; it wouldn't have been any easier even if the whole of Esthar was on their side. The fools were playing into their hands and very soon they would realize the error of their ways. Then the real plan could be set into action.

He had just sent orders to one of the men on the inside – O'Ryan he recalled – to proceed with the phase, but to leave enough time for the devastation to set in on all parties involved. They had worked so very hard in order to re-establish control over Esthar and no one was going to stand in the way this time. Not Lockhart, the Loire and certainly not Leonhart and SeeD for that matter.

And the best thing about the fools' decision was that he would be an active party in the transferring of the prisoner – excellent timing and placement on their part. It was as though they were gift-wrapping the little brat. He couldn't wait to see the look on the President's face when he discovered that the man he had appointed as the Director of the Estharian Cabinet placed the mole on the same plane as his only son, though he wouldn't be there to witness the initial shock. It was a pity, but he had his own tasks to take care of.

Schipner thought about it a little further and recalled the other man who would be assisting in escorting the Prisoner to the Shumi Village. In order to keep Lockhart out of the picture, James Logans was going to play a key role. The fact that he would be on the aircraft as well made the irony even sweeter, and there wasn't a damned thing Logans' bitch could do about it in the end.

_She'll be so devastated when she receives the news; perhaps she'll even blame herself, though it'd be too much to ask her to slit her own throat when she finds out what happened to her precious boy-toy. The cow can go rot in hell for all I care._

Keeping stride as he continued towards his destination, he tried very hard to suppress the eager smile he knew kept flickering upon his expression. Things were finally starting to fall into place and he couldn't wait for the fireworks to begin.

* * *

James stood at the ready near the aircraft that would be transporting the prisoner to the Shumi Village and frowned deeply. Though he knew things would be alright during his absence with Deilia in charge, he couldn't help but feel as though he were out of the loop for some reason; as though something wasn't right about all of this. During his time as the Chief of Security, James had taken it upon himself to trust his instincts, though at the moment he couldn't tell exactly what it was they were telling him to do.

The cabinet representative slated to accompany them on their travels – a man named Harold Schipner – entered the room and distracted James from his thoughts as he came up and stood beside him. Schipner was an old man, and possessed a slightly hunched back, making him slightly shorter than James' even 6 feet, and was dressed in the purple and black Estharian robes signifying his position as a cabinet member. James didn't know much about the man, but from what Christine had been telling him for weeks now, she didn't like the way he thought.

The pilot was seated inside of the plane they would be taking to Esthar, fiddling with the controls and making sure the piloting equipment was functional. James was grateful – it meant he actually knew what he was doing. Though he wasn't terrified, he never did like flying in a plane – it meant that he was giving the pilot control of whether he lived or died.

The door opened and he noticed Leonhart's comrades and friends entering the room, followed closely by the Headmaster of Balamb Garden and his wife, the Sorceress who, according to what he'd overheard near the war's end, had been possessed by the Sorceress in the future and had been forced to murder the former Galbadian President. He hadn't thought it to be a loss, and he certainly didn't hold her responsible for her actions, though from the looks she was receiving from the other soldiers and security personnel stationed, they weren't so forgiving.

One of his soldiers moved to stop them, but James raised a hand and shook his head. They had every right to see their friend off, even if it was later discovered he was guilty. They weren't going to see very much of him after this after all.

He moved towards them, stopping to stand a few feet away from them and he could tell they were gauging him; trying to figure out whether he could be trusted. It was a good habit to get into – you never know what kind of people you'll run into nowadays. "It's good to see that you could make it. I'm James Logans, Chief of Security or the Secret Service, whichever you prefer."

"How much longer will it take for him to get here." The girl in blue – Leonhart's girlfriend – spoke up.

"He should be here any minute. For the record, I'm sorry that this has to happen, but it's for his own safety."

"You mean it's so you can interrogate him some more." The blonde male snorted. James chose to ignore the comment.

"I'd believe him."

Everyone turned around to see President Loire, accompanied by Kiros Seagill and Ward Zabac, entering the room from an adjacent doorway and, after a moment, were making their way towards them, with Ellone a little further behind. "Logans' is one of the best guys I have. If he says nothing's going to happen, then it's as simple as that. Moreover, he won't let anything happen on his watch,"

Suddenly feeling flustered with the amount of praise he was receiving, James lowered his head and stared at his shoes for a second before nodding and returning to his watchful vigil, nodding at Kiros once before he did. Kiros nodded back, before turning back towards the conversation at hand.

* * *

**9:44:23**

* * *

Rinoa sighed as she watched Logans move away from them. She liked Laguna, she really did, but she wasn't entirely sure she could trust the Security Chief. Of course, he'd let her have a moment with Squall before they escorted him into the Prison sector, but that happened right before the sniper attack. She was a little on edge around him, what with him being present at that point in time.

_Come to think of it,_ she thought to herself. _He was also there when those murders took place, wasn't he?_

The doors behind them suddenly opened and everyone turned to look, and saw two guards escorting Squall from out of the hallway he had walked from. He was dressed in a light blue muscle shirt, a white t-shirt underneath and a pair of light blue slacks. Running shoes replaced his boots and the Griever chain was missing. On top of all this, there was a bandage wrapped around the left side of his neck (_Did something happen before they stopped Anderson?_ Rinoa thought to herself).

His arms were cuffed behind his back, but the guards released him, probably only until they were ready to lift off, and moved to stand over behind the President, while they waited. Rinoa couldn't contain herself and, even as her knight was rubbing some feeling back into his arms, she jumped onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her, despite the surprise her lunge had been, and soon after the others surrounded them, each of them asking him all kinds of questions at the exact same time.

Rinoa noticed that Laguna was standing off and away from the little group and felt a little bad about it. The falling out that had taken place between them pretty much spelt it out for anyone who had been there to see it; there was no hope that father and son were going to become close to one another. She hadn't been there so she didn't know much about the circumstances herself, but nevertheless Rinoa thought it was sad; she'd known a father she couldn't stand for the longest time in her life, whereas Squall had the opportunity to finally get to know his after never having one for so long, and both of them were just going to go their separate ways without even trying to set things to rights.

The young Sorceress noticed the Cabinet Representative climbing into the plane before seemingly talking to the pilot in the background; probably confirming their destination. Logans stood rooted to the spot, probably keeping an eye out in case anyone wanted to try anything. Rinoa was sorely tempted to do just that, but she knew Squall would never forgive her if she did.

"Hey." Squall's voice broke her out of her thoughts. "I'm about to get carted away and you're spacing out on me?"

Sighing lightly, she tightened her grip around his neck, wondering if they would delay the trip if she simply refused to let go. At the very least she wanted to go with him, but she knew it wasn't a possibility. "I'm going to miss you." She said quietly, before noticing that the others had stopped talking.

"I'll miss you too." He said before averting his attention towards the others. "…I'm not really very good with goodbyes…"

"We know." Quistis said, the expressions on everyone else's faces revealing that they agreed with the elder girl. "You don't have to say anything else. Just come back to us safely."

Squall nodded after a moment – Rinoa thought it was to let the words sink in – before she reluctantly let go of him, noticing Ellone making her way towards the group. Squall appeared momentarily shocked by the action but upon seeing Ellone immediately rush him, realization crossed his features as he held her; her arms hugging him as she openly sobbed. Rinoa could tell that he was holding back – that he was trying to appear strong for everyone, but she wanted him to express himself; to express that he was worried or scared of what might happen – to him or everyone else.

But she knew he wouldn't be able to say what he was really thinking; that he didn't want to burden everyone else with the inner workings of his mind, but all the same she wished he wouldn't bottle it all up.

Rinoa saw movement coming from her left and she turned to see Laguna, Kiros and Ward approaching them, though Laguna appeared somewhat hesitant. She couldn't blame him, and she felt for him.

Squall caught the movement as well and turned to look at Laguna, everyone else following in his gaze and wondering exactly what it was that was going to happen. Even Laguna looked slightly nervous. But after a full minute passed, Squall nodded in silent greeting, the President nodding back. No words were going to be spared; they didn't have to be.

"Sir!" one of the men in the security uniforms said. "We're about ready to lift off."

Laguna nodded in subdued acknowledgement and Ellone reluctantly let go of her brother. Squall complied with the unannounced request by simply stepping forward and allowing the guards to replace the cuffs that held his arms behind him. They were about to leave, but they were forced to stop when Rinoa simply ran forward, wrapping her arms around Squall, even though he wasn't facing her. The guards were forced to stop and Squall stumbled, having not expected the reaction.

Resting her head against his shoulder blades, she managed to force the tears to stay back for maybe a millisecond before they suddenly fell free – the action an expression of grieve for the both of them. Swallowing hard, she managed to force herself to speak, but it wasn't any louder than a whisper. "You'll come back to us, right? We'll get through this and when you come back, everything will be back to normal, right?"

Squall didn't make any moves to turn to look at her, but his head was hung – the only indication that his decision was hurting him as much as anyone else – possibly even more so. After a moment, he finally broke the silence just when it was becoming unbearable. "I wouldn't say that I would do something when I never intended to do it. If anyone knows me even marginally well, they'd say that much about me. That being said, I promise to come back to you. Everything will be alright – if not naturally, then I'll make it that way."

Rinoa nodded numbly, unable to say anything in response and finally, hating every moment of it, she removed her arms from around her knight, and watched as he was escorted onto the plane in front of her, tears freely streaming down her face as she did.

* * *

He didn't know exactly what it was that had provoked him to say what he had, but he believed the words to be true, even as he was escorted onto the plane; placed on the seat near a window that was facing the others who watched as he left. He didn't know what the future held for them, and couldn't even begin to speculate; the terrorists were still at large, and if they were targeting the Estharian government, then something would have to be done.

He felt more than saw Logans take a seat on his right; heard more than watched the pilot start the engines to the plane that would take him into isolation. His instincts were telling him that something was very wrong with this, but he couldn't bring himself to care – not at the moment. The only thing that mattered to him where the people standing away from the landing sight, watching as he was carted away, without even knowing exactly where it was he was going.

The last thing that Squall ever wanted was to hurt those close to him; it was even worse than the pain he had felt when he had been left alone, the pain in his chest almost unbearable, and yet he couldn't tear himself away from the window as he watched them move away, the plane he was sitting in picking up momentum as they continued down the launch way, until they were up in the air.

Even as they crossed over the mountains that would lead them outside of Esthar, Squall Leonhart found that he could not remove his gaze from that window.

* * *

He had been able to leave the Prison grounds easily enough, despite the fact that the prison guards were under investigation. He guessed the government wasn't nearly as soft as he'd originally thought. However, there were a couple other guards who shared his views and they'd offered quite a distraction while he'd made his way out the door. For one reason or another the soldiers guarding the entrance weren't there, but he didn't question the luck; instead moving down the hallway towards the elevator at the very end. He climbed into the contraption before pressing the button that would lead him to the desired floor.

To say that Douglas O'Ryan was excited was an understatement; he was giddy with pent up joy that not even his wife could have dragged out of him. He'd received orders from an anonymous source of what he was expected to do; given that he had done his job perfectly in allowing Anderson access into the building. The fact that the bumbling fool got caught was hardly his fault.

No, the role he had to play now was much bigger; huge even. He would go down in history as the man who signalled the beginning of the end for those losers who'd been responsible for ejecting Esthar's true ruler out of power.

As the elevator doors opened after a few minutes, having taken him to his desired floor, he unfolded his arms from across his chest and stalked forward, simply thrusting a clenched fist into the security code pad, forcing the box to short circuit and the doors to open automatically. It didn't hurt but that was surprising; a small treat he'd received during his surface all those years ago.

A couple of soldiers who were stationed by the entrance turned to see what the problem was, only to be knocked down by Douglas, a sneak attack rendering their trained skills useless and even as they slid to the floor Douglass wrapped his arms around a third soldier's neck, executing the Sleeper Hold and twisting slightly, ensuring the poor fool would never awaken.

Looking around and making certain that he wasn't spotted on camera, he pushed the dead soldier aside and tapped a couple of buttons, shutting down the surveillance cameras throughout the entire floor. Even if those fools discovered that something had just gone horribly wrong, they'd be far too late to do anything about it.

A man and woman stood at the controls he needed and he quickly made his appearance known by pulling out the sidearm he possessed and removing the safety. The resounding click that was heard was enough to cause both people to jump and they turned around slowly to face him, the woman screaming when she saw he had a gun.

Wincing slightly, he raised it higher, aiming at the woman's head. "Do that again, and you'll join the guards up here."

The woman whimpered for a moment before finally falling silent, an expression of helplessness befalling her features. The man took a protective step forward, nearly standing in the path between himself and the woman before finally speaking. "What is it you want?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"I'd think it was obvious." Douglas barked out, slowly making his way down the stairs. "I'm a lowly prison guard, after all, so I can't use any of this equipment. That's where you come in."

He pulled out a piece of paper from his uniform pocket – a set of numbers written out in a hasty scrawl – and held it out for the man to take. "I need you to set the missiles to hit this target. I also need you to wire a remote detonator and give it to me."

The man looked as though he wanted to protest, but when Douglas flexed the gun into his direction, all the man could do was gape at him in horror. "I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you refuse."

Both workers exchanged glances and after a moment of hesitation, both set out to work, Douglas grinning as they moved.

_They wanna stop my missiles from launching; they'll have to do it manually. _Douglas thought to himself. _And by the time they reach this place in order to do just that, the missiles will have already launched and it'll already be far too late to do shit all about it._

* * *

_**10:00:00**_


	9. Hour 9

**04/09/2007: **This'll probably be my last update for the night. It's like five o'clock in the morning where I'm from, so if something doesn't sound very coherent, feel free to send me a private message. Also, near the end of this chapter is where the story diverges from the original version of Day of Disaster. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Nyak, nyak.

**04/20/2007:** Had to fix the last four chapters - I forgot to separate some scenes with the actual time. Sorry guys.

* * *

_**The following takes place between 10am and 11am.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

* * *

The door to her office had slid open as she passed through it, her arms laden with file folders and papers as she moved down the hallway. She'd thought she'd caught sight of one of the prison guards heading towards the east elevators, but she figured she was just imagining things; since of course they were still being investigated.

Nevertheless, she'd made it to the western elevator, just in time to see the doors close. "Hold the elevator!" she called out as she started at a dead sprint.

The occupant of the elevator must have heard her, because the door stopped when there was only a crack of space left before the doors slid open again, Christine managing to manoeuvre her way inside. The doors closed shortly afterwards and the Cabinet representative sighed in relief. She always managed to miss the elevators, but it seemed as though luck was on her side this time.

At least one thing in that day was going accordingly.

"Which floor are you going to?" a feminine voice inquired.

Christine adjusted her glasses as best she could as she looked to the speaker and recognized her as Deilia Oakwood; James' second in command for Security. She grinned; her luck was definitely improving. "Deilia, hi. I didn't realize you were here."

"Just heading up to make a report." Deilia shrugged. "Need some help with those?"

Christine didn't realize what she was talking about at first, but when Deilia pointed at the folders tucked underneath her arms, the blonde grinned sheepishly. "Sure. Thanks a lot."

"Not a problem." Deilia said and took a good arm full. "Where're you off to? Filing a report of your own?"

"Not exactly," Christine answered. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where James is, would you? I need to tell him something and it's really important."

"You just missed him, I'm afraid." Deilia said. "He's escorting Leonhart to a remote location."

"They left already?" Christine asked before sighing. She'd known the prisoner was going to be transferred somewhere remote for his own safety, but she hadn't realized it would be this soon. And hadn't even thought of the possibility James would be going as well. "Figures my luck would suck this much…"

Deilia chuckled. "Well, we all have our bad days, Chris. What did you need to tell him?"

Christine debated telling her but shrugged instead. "Well, I have to report my findings to the President as well. Mind if I tag along to the Presidential Office?"

"Not at all." Deilia shrugged. "Good news or bad?"

"Hopefully something positive for a change. It's only speculation though, so I have no idea whether my findings warrant anything. It's worth a shot."

"Hey, if you have something, work with it." Deilia said as she pressed the button that would lead to the top floor.

* * *

Staring out the window onto the surface beneath him was becoming a rather tedious pastime in his opinion, but he couldn't very well think of anything better to do.

He sat on the left-hand side of the back seat, his arms still restrained by the anti-magic wrist-guards behind his back. Logans sat on his right, while the pilot and the Cabinet Representative sat up in front respectively.

Despite his relaxed disposition, Squall was on high alert, in case his instincts were correct. He didn't want to be caught unawares, in case something were to happen and he didn't exactly like the fact that nothing had happened just yet. The ground beneath them was buried under a blanket of snow, but as for how long it would take them to get to their destination, he could only guess.

"I received a briefing regarding what took place in the Prisons earlier." Logans said, breaking the tense silence of which had fallen upon the cabin.

Squall didn't say anything at first, choosing to continue to stare out the window and patiently wait for Logans to continue. When he didn't, Squall sighed irritably but didn't remove his gaze from the glass in front of him. "And?"

"I was wondering about something," Logans stated after a moments pause. Squall rolled his eyes as he turned to face the man questioning him. "You could have used the diversion to escape the Prisons. No one would have been able to stop you. You could have gotten out, given that you knew your way out of there…."

"From what I saw of the prisons, the central exit is the one guarded the lightest and, while there are guards patrolling it, the eastern entrances could use a little more security." Squall interjected. "The man you arrested – he probably made his way through the central corridors without so much as a metal detector test, let alone a proper escort."

Squall saw that Logans was staring at him in shocked awe. Sighing once again, Squall jumped in once again before the Chief of Security could get a word in edge-wise. "You're wondering why I stayed to help." Squall asked, moving his attention back to the window. He didn't need to turn around to know that Logans had nodded.

"Why did you tell me all of that?" Logans asked after a moment of awkward silence. "Wouldn't you have just kept that information to yourself? We're the ones keeping you incarcerated after all."

"To prove a point."

"And that would be?"

"That I could have escaped at any given time I needed to." Squall stated with a verbal shrug. "That I knew every single escape route that I possibly could have known, as well as how heavily guarded they were and the easiest routes to access those exits, but instead of utilizing this information I chose to co-operate with the guards."

Before Logans could say anything, Squall cut him off once again. "I have nothing to hide. I didn't kill those people. Why would I run from the Estharian Government if I haven't done anything wrong? Whether you believe me or not doesn't exactly matter."

"Then what does matter?" Logans asked after another moment of silence.

"I was set up by someone, and they're not done yet." He stated simply. He didn't know whether the security Chief believed him or thought he was paranoid, but he had long since stopped caring.

"Why are you telling me this?" Logans asked and Squall turned to face him again.

"Because," Squall answered. "I think you've just become involved. More so than either of us have realized."

He returned his gaze to the window, oblivious to Logans' expression.

* * *

Cid sighed deeply as he picked up the phone he needed to use. The others were just as saddened by this act as he was, but he couldn't allow it to show – not entirely. Though he believed that SeeD should be allowed to act more human rather than the strict machines NORG had willed them to become, he also understood that to be too emotional, especially during a crisis, was also a bad thing.

Rinoa was sitting on the opposite end of the room, her hands clasped together and her head bowed – precisely the same gesture Squall had been seen in throughout his time at Garden. Quistis and Selphie sat on either side of her and Irvine was seated beside Selphie. Zell was busy pacing the length of the room, occasionally cursing under his breath. Cid wondered if the brawler's mother was aware of the language her eighteen year old son spouted on occasion. Even his wife appeared withdrawn, though she too tried her best to cope with it in her own way – trying to sooth the girl in blue she was kneeling in front of.

_There's no point for us to stay here anymore, _Cid realized in dismay. Though he trusted Laguna to send updates of the situation to them as quickly as he possibly could, he didn't like to receive recycled information. He wanted to be well aware of what was happening, rather than question the possibility of a tape in conversations, or a leak coming from either side.

Though saddened by Squall's decision to stay within Estharian custody, he was also proud of him. The man whom had been seen as the lone wolf throughout his student years at the Garden was thinking about the bigger picture than just his own position, something most people found difficult to do during the best of times. He was baring the brunt of this punishment for a crime he had had no participation in, in the hopes that the real perpetrator would be caught. It might have been wishful thinking, but it was also buying them the time they would need – should Squall have decided against co-operation, it would have been far more difficult to prove his innocence.

It was also a sign that the young man was growing up.

During the time he took to muse mentally to himself, he had dialled the secure line that would patch him into Balamb Garden. It was time to return to their home base and figure out their own methods of capturing the true guilty party.

As the phone rang, he wondered if it truly was even over when Xu's familiar voice came on the line. "Balamb Garden."

"Xu, this is Cid." Cid stated as enthusiastically as he could muster. "I need to speak to the Commander."

"Oh…Headmaster Kramer…" Xu said, sounding slightly hesitant, which in turn caused the Headmaster to frown slightly. Normally she simply strode though a call as simply as she would check her own phone messages. It told him that there was something very wrong. "I'll patch you through immediately. The Commander wishes to speak to you as well."

_Probably about this whole mess._ Cid thought to himself, but wondered exactly what the topic at hand was going to be. "Thank you."

Xu did not respond; instead he heard the busy tone as she began to patch him through. Turning to look at the others, he realized he had gained their attention and decided to switch the conversation to audio. There wasn't anything going to be said that the others wouldn't know and he'd simply pick up the earpiece and speak to Conrad privately if there was.

The dial tone disappeared and Conrad's voice came in clearly through speaker, though his tone of voice was crisper than normal. "Hello Headmaster, you wanted to speak with me?"

"That I did." Cid responded, wondering about everyone's sudden change in behaviour. "I have just called to let you know we will be leaving Esthar within the hour and returning to Garden. Due to some unexpected turn of events, we plan to continue this investigation from home field."

"Of course you would." Conrad stated and Cid couldn't help but feel the young man's voice held a slight sardonic undertone. "There is also something of great importance I must speak to you about."

"Oh?" Cid asked curiously. "About what?"

"With all due respect, Cid, I wish to speak about it in person." Conrad responded and Cid frowned thoughtfully. "I will meet with you just outside the landing co-ordinates of the Ragnarok."

"Alright. We'll speak then."

Conrad didn't bother to respond, merely cutting the transmission. Cid sighed, wondering what it could be able when Zell asked his unspoken question. "The hell was that about?"

"I wonder what he wants to talk to you about." Selphie jumped in.

"I'll find out soon enough." Cid said simply. "In the meantime, we need to see about getting ready."

"I'll help Nida prep the Ragnarok." Selphie said as she made to leave the room. Irvine immediately rose to his feet and followed behind. Zell did the same, knowing quite a bit about the Ragnarok, though Cid knew it was because Zell wanted to learn how to properly pilot the former Estharian flag ship.

"I think we should ask about the prisoner." Quistis suggested, surprising Cid. "We might find out more about who his contact was. Maybe find out where he is."

"Good idea." Cid nodded. "And why don't you and Rinoa go for a walk. Clear your heads before we leave."

Lowering his voice, he inclined his head in Rinoa's direction before continuing. "Besides, I believe Rinoa needs the company, regardless of what she says."

"I agree." Quistis said. "Thank you, sir."

Cid waved her off as Quistis approached Rinoa and a moment later, they were leaving the room after their comrades. Edea rose from her kneeling position and frowned. "I wonder what the Commander wishes to discuss with you."

Cid couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

**10:10:53**

* * *

It had been a while since their conversation and James didn't know what to make of it. The teenager sitting beside him had seemingly known every single escape route in the Prisons, even though he had only been to a couple of places. He assumed the boy had cast a scan spell and had concentrated the target to be the entire building.

But why would he have done that?

James didn't know if he was actually trying to prove a point or whether he was right about still being a target. The families who had been affected by the attack were still in Esthar, so they wouldn't be able to attack him where they currently where. Was he just being paranoid or did the people who got to Anderson have a longer range than they were suspecting.

Currently, the SeeD was staring out the window of the plane, much like he had been doing the entire trip. According to Orally, he had done much the same during the trip from Galbadia as well. From what he knew already, James thought that maybe Leonhart was lost in thought rather than admiring the scenery. It would hold much more to his personality than the latter.

Just as he checked the time, he felt the SeeD shift swiftly on the seat and frowned slightly. He looked up from his watch and saw something flicker across the SeeDs face. Was it realization? Or shocked dread? James couldn't decipher it and it agitated him slightly. "What is it?"

"We're not going to the Shumi Village."

Logans' eyebrow rose. That sounded suspiciously like an order rather than a comment. Was he planning on hijacking the plane by himself? "What do you mean by that?"

"Look out your window."

Logans took a glimpse out of the window, only seeing the snowy expanse of the Trabia landscape beneath them. He looked up towards the sky and still found nothing. Turning back to the SeeD, he grappled to try and contain his growing agitation. "What am I looking for?"

"Our course has been altered." The SeeD continued. "This is not the way to the Shumi Village."

James rolled his eyes and looked out the window, still seeing nothing wrong with their course. "You're paranoid."

"Check your radar." Leonhart stated, determined that he was right.

Choosing to humour him for the moment, James pulled out his pocket organizer. Selecting a few options, he accessed the map of the world, with their target destination selected. He pressed another button and was about to tell the SeeD where he could shove his conspiracy theories when the readout revealed to him what Leonhart had just been telling him. According to the angle they were moving in, he realized that they would be moving away from the Trabian continent altogether; their destination unknown from there.

His agitation grew steadily as he unbuckled his safety belt and moved to stand behind the pilot. "Put us back on course." He ordered. "We are to head to the Winter Island."

"I'm afraid I can't do that sir." The pilot said, his gaze fixated on the windshield in front of him.

"I am giving you a direct order!" James was so close to losing his temper that he was beginning to see red edging into his vision. He mentally began to count backwards from ten, but the attempt to calm himself down vanished when he realized he was face to face with the barrel of a gun.

"He doesn't take orders from _your_ government." Schipner responded coldly, flicking the safety off the Estharian weapon. "Now return to your seat and enjoy the ride."

"What do you think you're doing?" James asked in shock. "You're part of the Cabinet!"

"Only to those who need to think that." Schipner stated automatically. "Now sit down or I will shoot you."

Frowning, James knew that if he reached for his own gun, Schipner would shoot him immediately, so instead he returned to his seat and adjusted his sunglasses, catching Leonhart staring at both parties in confusion. "Who do you work for?"

"I'd say it was fairly obvious." Schipner stated before turning away from him. "We've come to rescue our ally in arms."

James immediately whirled on the SeeD and found that the façade of indifference was gone from his features. Instead, a look of shock and surprise replaced it as he stared dumbly at Schipner. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't need to pretend anymore, our cover's blown as it is with this stunt." Schipner said, swivelling his seat around to face them, the SeeD in particular. "You were brilliant, you know. You almost had _me_ convinced of your innocence, and I work with you."

"He's lying." Leonhart managed to get out, but Schipner laughed it off.

"And the cabinet was sceptical of your guilt, of course. You even managed to nearly convince one of them that you were innocent of the charges, simply by your mind games, but don't worry. She'll be dealt with soon enough."

James' stomach tightened as he glared at both Schipner and the SeeD. He knew exactly who Schipner was talking about. "If either of you do anything to hurt Christine…"

"I'm not working with them!" Leonhart stated, his voice level as he glared balefully at Schipner. "If I was the one who murdered those people, then why the hell is the Galbadian Government saying I was in Deling the entire time?"

"This performance is getting boring." Schipner stated. "They saw the holographic image of you and were easily fooled. That touch was your own idea."

James didn't know which one to believe and was having a difficult time in grappling with his anger. "And what do you plan to do with me, exactly?"

"You're just here to enjoy the ride." Schipner stated simply as he unstrapped himself from his seat and towered over the Chief of Security. "But now that you know the truth,"

Schipner levelled the weapon at James' head, right between his eyes. He could feel the barrel of the weapon pressed against the bridge of his nose. "We can't afford to have any liabilities hanging around, you understand of course."

James prepared himself for the worst when all of a sudden he caught movement from the corner of his eye. The SeeD lunged out of his seat and knocked himself into Schipner, forcing the gunman to lose balance and his aim. Schipner fired once, twice, three times; the first barely having missed James as the other two went wild, ripping through the wall of the aircraft.

James was barely just beginning to recover when he saw Schipner punch the SeeD away, the teenager falling roughly onto his shoulder as Schipner stalked over and grabbed him by the scruff of the prison uniform he wore. "You little shit! If you weren't so valuable alive, I'd—"

The plane tipped to the right and Schipner lost his balance, dropping Leonhart and grabbing hold of his chair in order to balance himself. The SeeD slammed his back hard against the side of the plane and James began to battle with his seatbelt, a feeling of dread nestling itself in his stomach. "Control the plane, you moron!"

"I would," the pilot snapped back. "except you shot the propeller on the right wing! It's failing and I can't keep the plane steady."

"What?" Schipner shouted in outrage and strapped himself back into his seat, talking animatedly with the pilot. James shot out of his own seat and began to help Leonhart stand, regardless of whether he was in league with the terrorists or not.

"Why did you—?" James began but was cut off by Leonhart.

"Uncuff my arms."

James stared at him incredulously. "You're crazy if you think I'd do that."

"We don't have much time…"

"Yeah, I know – the pilot just said he can't keep the plane steady." James said, knowing what was coming. The plane was going to crash. At this height they would be lucky if they survived.

"Then uncuff me." Leonhart stated simply.

"It's against protocol—"

"Do you want to die?!" Leonhart shouted at him, glaring at him for such a statement.

"Of course I don't want to die!" James snapped back.

"Then uncuff me!"

James hesitated for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket and extracting a chain. It had a strange symbol on the side of the metal casing attached; the same symbol on the handcuffs strapped to the SeeD's arms. Placing the marks so that they faced each other, the cuffs suddenly clanked onto the ground, the SeeD rubbing his arms for a moment before grabbing onto James' shirt. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

Leonhart didn't answer; instead moving to open the door of the plane. He braced himself against the plane door by one hand while the other held James. As he looked down and saw the ground beneath him, his eyes widened in shock. "You're gonna—"  
"It's not what you think." Leonhart muttered—

—and the next second James was flying out of the plane, plummeting towards the ground beneath him, cursing himself for being so stupid as to release the prisoner and bidding a silent farewell to Christine—

—when something violently tugged onto the back of his shoulder blades and forcefully stopped his descent. At first he thought he was dead, but then he opened his eyes and noticed that the ground was still beneath his floating form. He turned to look around and saw miniature white wings sprouting from his back, keeping him from plummeting to his death.

And in the distance, the plane descended into the ground nearby and crashed, a loud boom emitting from the site as flames began to spark out in the distance.

It was when he saw what had happened when Leonhart's words dawned on. He wasn't trying to dump him out of the plane and watch him plummet to the ground beneath them.

He was trying to save his life.

Another sickening lurge and he was falling once again, the float spell having worn off. Fortunately the drop wasn't all that high and he managed to tuck into a roll, wincing as he landed on his left shoulder. Taking a moment to rub it, he hurried towards the plane, changing the function of his sunglasses as he patched into the Estharian Residence. "This is Chief James Logans reporting in, does anyone read me? The plane we were on was hijacked by militants posing as Estharian personnel and has crashed about an hour north of Esthar's capital. The personnel on the plane includes the pilot, Harold Schipner of the Estharian Cabinet and Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden. I'm heading towards the wreckage to check for survivors, over!"

No one answered and James didn't wait, simply breaking into a spring towards the plane, his gut tightening even more as he took in the situation. Harold Schipner was a traitor, and had been working with the people who had caused the attack on the prisons earlier that day.

And Squall Leonhart was innocent – he really was in Deling City during the time of the crime when someone else who was masquerading as him took out those people, all in the hopes of making the government crumble. It might even have something to do with the President – after all, the accused was his son.

He sincerely hoped Leonhart was alive – he'd feel horrible if he found him dead, especially after having saved his life, especially after the way the government treated him like a criminal. The fact that he had simply sat back and taken it made him feel worse, and yet it made him marvel at the teenager's determination to see things through the way they were.

Finally, he made it to the wreckage, the flames having grown since he had first seen them set in and forcing him back and away. He simply removed his uniform jacket and wrapped it around his head before jumping into the flames. It was tremendously hot despite the cold temperatures of the Trabian Tundra, but he pressed onward and, after a few minutes, was forced to exit, unless he wanted to be burned to a crisp and without getting close enough to know if there was anyone else inside.

Cursing loudly, he tried searching the wreckage from outside of the circle of flames, calling out the SeeD's name, hoping he received an answer. Just as he was about to radio everyone's status, he caught a glimpse of something – a head it looked like – lulled to the side as the person burned alive in the flames the crash had created. James activated the comlink and had just patched into his partner when he heard a crash; the plane exploding behind him and the flames and debris left over from the explosion crashing over him.

* * *

Harold watched as the plane engulfed in flames and fell on top of the stupid security chief, having already expected it to happen. With his luck, the explosion alone would have killed the fool.

When the plane had crashed, the first thing he'd thought of was his own survival. He'd pulled himself out of the wreckage as quickly as possible, and along the way he'd seen the flames moving towards the fuel tank. He'd known then it was time to go. He'd only just manage to reach a snow bank when he'd seen Logans approach the plane, probably searching for survivors. He'd been in the midst of contemplating the implications of attack Logans from behind when the plane had exploded.

Though now, Logans was the least of his concerns; he'd only seen one body in the plane when he'd managed to pull himself together.

Which meant that Leonhart was missing.

He didn't believe it was possible for the SeeD to have simply jumped back up and climbed out of the wreckage; his junctions were back in Esthar. Still, he was far younger than himself, so it was possible he'd simply recovered faster. But now it was his job to search him out; that had been the whole purpose of his accompanying the pair to the Winter Island in the first place.

_He can't have gotten very far..._ Harold thought to himself. _I watched him hit his head along the wall of the plane._

Knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to catch him on his own, Harold pulled out his cellphone and, upon noticing that it was still in working condition, he dialled a number, no longer caring about covering his ass. The damage had been done anyway and now there was no need to hide where his loyalties lay. Finally, the dial tone passed and he didn't wait for the person on the other end to speak. "The plane crashed. I'm leaving my phone on so you should be able to find me by tracking my GPS. No sign of Leonhart yet, but I'm looking for him. He can't have gone very far."

He hung up before anyone could respond, and continued his search, leaving the plane wreckage and attempting to find the brat on foot.

* * *

Selphie and Nida were busy working on getting the engine of the Ragnarok ready, working in silence as Zell and Irvine just gave them company. Nida hadn't asked what was wrong; Zell figured he already had it all thought out, but was grateful all the same.

The brawler felt like punching something, but knew if he did, Selphie'd get all pissed at him for hurting her 'baby' as she'd begun to call the Ragnarok. He didn't need that on top of everything else. Right now, he felt just as helpless as he had when that Paul guy had gotten shot, or when Selphie had told him about Squall surrendering to the Estharians. Now he was being carted off because the same people responsible for framing him were trying to keep him quiet. It just didn't seem fair.

_When we get back to Garden, I'm so visiting the Training Center,_ he mentally promised himself, though he was still wondering about what the Commander wanted to talk to the Headmaster about and why it was so important that he wanted to do it face to face. That's what he never got about higher officials – they had to do things the hard way all the time.

Zell was by no means an insensitive person. He knew when to speak to someone face to face, or when the news couldn't wait, but he thought the Commander was just being ridiculous. The guy sounded like he wanted to speak to the Headmaster right away and now all of a sudden he wanted to wait until they could speak in person? Things were quickly change from bad to worst.

_What else can possibly go wrong now?_ Zell wondered to himself and just a second later, the communications light lit up, just as Quistis and Rinoa entered the cockpit.

"Is someone going to answer that?" Quistis asked, even as Rinoa sat down.

Selphie rolled her eyes and flipped the switch in front of her. "Yes, mother…" she said mockingly before turning her attention towards the speaker. "Ragnarok here. What is it?"

"You all might want to get back in here." Laguna's voice sounded on the speaker.

At the sound of his voice, Zell got worried. Laguna normally sounded enthusiastic when it came to calling people over, whenever he was happy or angry. Now he just sounded like a guy who'd lost everything because of a bad coin toss.

Quistis appeared to have thought the same thing, because she immediately hurried to the door. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

As he followed the others, Zell couldn't help but wonder what it could have been that caused the President to sound like that when he suddenly stopped in his tracks as a realization dawned on him.

_Shit, what's happened to Squall now?_

* * *

When they'd finally arrived, Cid and Edea had already been there, though they appeared concerned; something terrible had happened alright, but Irvine was willing to be money they hadn't been told what. Deilia Oakwood, second in command of security, had been standing at attention and now looked to them, a look of pity strewn upon her features.

There was another woman as well; with long blonde hair in a loose ponytail. She was sitting aside from everyone else in a chair along the side wall. She didn't even look up as they'd all walked in. From what Irvine could tell, she'd just received some bad news.

The President's head was bowed over his desk, which worried the sharpshooter a bit. It wasn't like Laguna to appear to concede defeat, especially during a crisis.

"What has happened?" Edea beat everyone in asking the question that was on everyone's mind.

Instead of Laguna, however, Deilia was the one who spoke. "We just received a message from the Tundra in Trabia a few minutes ago. We tried to clean it up as best we could, but we couldn't get much from the transmission."

There was something small held in Deilia's hand and Irvine soon recognized the device as a small recorder. He guessed it had the message they'd received. "I played this for the President, but we don't have any confirmation as of yet."

"Play it for us." Edea prompted and Deilia nodded, depressing the button and allowing the recording to play.

"…This is… Logans'… plane… hijacked… has crashed… personnel… Schipner… Balamb Garden… to check… survivors…"

Deilia turned off the recording. "We received another transmission from him, but Logans didn't say anything, there was just the sound of an explosion in the background before we lost contract. We've tried again repeatedly to get into contact with him, but we've received no response of our efforts. Teams have already been dispatched to investigate."

"What did he say? About Schipner?" Quistis asked. "There was a man with that name who boarded the plane that was taking Squall to the Shumi Village wasn't there?"

Irvine paled as realization dawned on him, and beside him Selphie mimicked the action. The message was saying that the plane Squall had been on had crashed and the Security Chief was checking to see if anyone had survived. "How did Logans get out of the plane?"

"We don't know as of yet." Deilia said resigned. "All we know is the pilot, Schipner and Leonhart were inside of the plane when it crashed, from what we've managed to get from the recording. As it stands, there might not have been any survivors."

"What are you saying?"

All three of them turned around to see Ellone standing in the doorway. Cid and Edea exchanged surprised looks, and everyone else appeared at a loss as to what to do. Deilia merely stepped out of the way as the young girl moved closer into the office. "Are you saying that my brother's dead? That can't be true, it just can't be!"

She looked imploringly towards Laguna, who had raised his head upon hearing the girl's voice. "It's not true, is it Uncle Laguna?"  
"I'm sorry, Elle. I don't know." Laguna said, and Cid couldn't help but think the President sounded like a broken man. "We can only hope that he's still alive – that everyone in the plane survived."

Laguna turned to Deilia, who appeared slightly uncomfortable within the atmosphere. "As soon as the team makes it to the crash site, contact me with anything you can find. I want to know how that plane crashed and what the hijackers were after."

Deilia nodded before quickly stalking out of the room, closing the door behind her. Ellone was trying desperately to hold the tears back, and Edea wrapped her arms consolingly around the girl, who immediately shook off the gesture. "No! Don't! It's not going to work! I can't believe you're all convinced that he's dead. Well he's not! He can't be dead, he just can't be!"

"Elle…" Selphie tried, but was interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it! You don't know how hard this is! We've been together since we were _children!_ Raine had just died and if he hadn't been there I would have fallen apart! He was the only one there to help my grief, to help me move on! I refuse to believe that he's gone! He's not dead!"

She broke off into a whimper as she collapsed onto the ground, Edea steadying her and this time, the younger girl didn't push the former Sorceress away. "He just can't be dead. He can't be." Ellone whispered in a broken voice.

"_No_!" a shout sounded from behind Irvine and everyone turned to the current Sorceress as she clutched at her head, shaking it vehemently as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. She repeated the word, over and over again, each one being shouted out as violently as the last.

"It's not fair!" She finally shouted and Irvine grabbed a hold of her, preventing her from hurting herself. She paid him no mind, even as Nida joined him in restraining her. "Squall! Squall you bastard, you promised me! You _promised _me you'd be alright; that everything'd be alright! You bastard sonovabitch!"

"Rinoa! Calm down!" Irvine shouted and Zell immediately moved towards the three, holding her down as well.

"You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't!" Zell shouted and Nida grunted in agreement.

Rinoa struggled for a second longer before suddenly falling limp against the three who were holding her down. Zell fell onto the ground as a response and Nida stumbled slight as Cid turned to look at his wife, whose arm was outstretched, a very shaken expression upon her features. "Edea?"

"She is reacting badly to the news." She said, her voice having gone hollow.

"Of course she's reacting badly!" Quistis shouted but Edea held up her hand to stop her.

"It's worse than you think." Edea stated. "Rinoa is a Sorceress. Squall is…was… her knight. In past history, when a Sorceress loses her knight, she is subject to losing control of herself in her grief. We need to keep her calm, otherwise we'll have to content with the fury of a Sorceress along side these terrorists."

"I'll take her to the infirmary." Irvine stated and slung one of Rinoa's limp arms around his shoulders.

"I'll go too." Selphie volunteered.

"Garden's not gonna like this." Zell said and at once everyone turned to look at them. "They're gonna blame the Estharians about what happened."

"Unfortunately, it is time the rest of Garden knew exactly what is happening." Cid stated gravely. "I will see to it that they understand the Estharians had nothing to do with what has just taken place; that the terrorists who framed him are also responsible for everything that has happened today."

Laguna didn't respond, only nodding numbly as he supported Ellone, who was sobbing helplessly onto his shoulder.

"All we can do is wait for the report to come in." Cid assured him. "Everything else is out of our hands."

"I know…" Laguna stated quietly. "It's just…how did everything go so wrong?"

"I don't think this is the end of it somehow." Quistis said and everyone turned to look at her. "I have a very bad feeling and it's telling me that it's only just begun."

* * *

**10:31:05**

* * *

Harold hated the cold.

He'd always hated it; even as a child when the other kids in his neighbourhood would run out in order to build snow men or ride toboggans. He'd always believed that had he never seen the white flaky substance again it'd be all too soon.

Now, he was manoeuvring his way through the stuff, all to find some little punk kid who'd caused his plane to crash. Had it not been for his meddling, Logans would've been shot and killed and they'd have already been bound for the hideout.

But no; Leonhart just _had_ to be difficult.

He just hoped Leonhart was worse off; it'd serve him right for this little muck up.

_No matter, _he thought to himself. _Logans_ _will die with his bitch and the rest of the so-called government in due time._

If there was one thing he couldn't wrap his head around it was the faith the SeeD had in the Estharian government; no matter what those idiots had thrown at him, he had cooperated with the hope they would eventually discover they'd pinned the crime on the wrong man. He had gone so far to save Logans – throwing him out of the plane before it crashed – even when the man believed him to be nothing short of a lying terrorist.

It was admirable, if only a tad annoying to say the least.

He heard the sound of a motor sounding off in the distance and looked out from the hood of his robes in order to see a snow mobile off into the distance. Teeth chattering, he waved his arms into the air, hoping to catch the driver's attention and sure enough he did. He couldn't help but marvel at the speed it had taken for his back up to arrive and he knew he'd need it if he wanted to keep looking for Leonhart.

Eventually, the vehicle grew bigger as it moved closer to his position, until finally she stopped the ski-bike just a few feet away from him. Another much larger transport pulled up behind her, filled with a small group of men and women, all dress appropriately for the weather.

The driver of the ski-bike pulled off her helmet, revealing a red haired young woman with almond shaped eyes. The uniform she wore to keep worm was mostly yellow with black stripes along the side, as the rest of them were outfitted the same.

Having gained her attention, Harold folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to keep warm. "It's about time you showed up."

"Never mind that." The red haired woman snapped. She looked around the area without getting off the bike before speaking again. "Where is he?"

"I've looked as far as I can but I can't seem to locate him." Harold snapped back. "I could've used some help to find him, now couldn't I, Elaina!"

The woman, Elaina, raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow, frowning slightly before speaking. "If you had done your job properly, Schipner, the target wouldn't have escaped, now would he?"

Harold scowled at her; he'd never really liked the woman, but because of how highly skilled she was, she was higher up the line than himself. He couldn't afford to pick a fight with her. "I've search all over on this side, but I couldn't find him, as I've said. It's possible he's headed west; it's the only direction I haven't checked."

"Good job," Elaina congratulated sarcastically. "In this weather, he won't last much longer. We need him alive, Harold, and you knew that!"

"He's the one who chose to escape!" Harold protested. "If he freezes his ass off, I'd say the little prick deserves it."

"Nevertheless, that 'little prick', as you adequately called him, needs to be captured alive." Elaina expressed. "Those were the orders we received when we were first briefed on this mission."

"Like I said, he couldn't have gotten very far." Harold explained. "he's wearing an Estharian prison uniform; not exactly fashioned to protect from the cold."

"Then we'd better hurry then, shouldn't we?" Elaina asked, replacing the helmet she'd worn previously.

Harold moved towards the end of the larger transport, only to see that one of the men was taking up two seats. Everything else was already occupied. "Move."

"Nope." The guy shrugged.

"I said move."

"And I said no."

"You're wasting time!" Harold complained, but Elaina's voice distracted him.

"Leave him alone; he's got a bum leg."

"Then where the hell am I supposed to sit?" he started, but froze when Elaina removed the revolver from her hip hoister and pointed it straight at him. The elder man moved away from the transport, barely able to feel his feet before, but the woman simply followed the motion; the weapon still pointed straight at him.

"Figure it out." She said and pulled the trigger twice.

* * *

According to the medical staff, Rinoa had been sedated and allowed to rest in the infirmary for the time being. Selphie and Irvine were currently with her, just in case it wasn't enough to keep her out. Quistis had remained behind, as had Nida and Zell, and the Headmaster was in the middle of a phone call – contacting Balamb Garden and explaining the delay in their return. Quistis had no idea what the Garden's reaction to Squall's death would be, nor did she particularly want to know.

_I just hope that Rinoa's grief doesn't cause another Ultimecia…_

She knew it was somewhat insensitive to think such a thing. Everyone deserved to grieve the death of a loved one and Rinoa was no exception, but Matron's words haunted her; to know that every Sorceress who had lost their knight had had their powers slip their control was a disheartening thing.

Suddenly, the com system installed into the President's desk beeped and Laguna answered it. Ellone had been escorted to the infirmary with Edea, and Quistis wanted to know how she was currently doing, but the fact that something had just come in was also pressing. Despite her best efforts, she hoped the ground team had managed to find Squall alive and well. Zell and Nida were thinking along the same lines from what she could tell – both had looked up at the sound of the com system beeping.

"Yes?" Laguna asked, trying to keep the hope from resounding in his voice. He wasn't very successful.

"Sir, we've surveyed all of the security footage from the entire building and have found something disturbing." The security detail answered on the other end and everyone else slumped back in frustration. Laguna smiled sheepishly at all of them before resuming the conversation.

"And? What did you find?"

"At approximately 0945 this afternoon, the surveillance system inside of the missile base was shut down. We have just alerted Agent Oakwood, who has left to investigate, along with a team of security personnel."

"Good. I want a report on why the surveillance system shut down." Laguna stated and cut the transmission short. Sighing irritated, he fell back into his seat. "From bad to worse, huh?"

"Does this remind anyone else of the Missile Base in Galbadia?" Zell asked. Quistis didn't know why he was bringing it up; he had been on the team to report to the Headmaster about the missiles. Still, she nodded in response whereas Nida just appeared puzzled.

"The Sorceress launched missiles at both Balamb and Trabia Gardens nearly five months ago. Selphie, Irvine and myself infiltrated the base and were able to lower the accuracy ratio of the missiles launched at B-Garden, though we were too late to do anything for Trabia." Quistis explained for Nida's benefit more than to answer Zell's question. "Why?"

"Don't you think it's a little odd?" Zell asked, leaning forward into his chair. "You know; that we receive notice that Squall's plane crashed, and then we get Intel that there's something up at the Missile Base?"

Quistis went to tell Zell exactly how paranoid he was being but immediately snapped her mouth shut when she realized that he was right. There was a possibility that the terrorists managed to sneak back into the Residence undetected and secure the Missile Base, which would give them the opportunity to launch Missiles at any place in the world. To make matters worse, Esthar, already in hot water with the Galbadians, would be blamed for the whole thing.

_If the terrorists shoot Missiles at Galbadia, then a war will break out for sure._ Quistis thought to herself. _We can't let that happen. Squall did all of this just to prevent a war from breaking out; there's no way I'll stand aside and let his work be all in vain._

"Laguna, can you contact Deilia? Tell her I'll meet her there."

Zell and Nida stared at the former Instructor as she made her way through the door of the Presidential Office, the door closing shut before they could ask her about her decision.

* * *

It hadn't taken very long to actually reach the Missile Base; she'd been waiting for the elevator when Zell had caught up and inwardly, she was relieved. When it came to machines, he was the one person she would go to, and she felt as though there would be a need for a mechanic. The two of them had caught the elevator quickly enough and, after looking through the director, had headed directly to the floor where the Missile Base was.

They'd arrived roughly a couple minutes before Deilia, and had taken the time to marvel at the differences between Galbadian and Estharian technology. Almost everything was completed through holographic controls, though the interior of the room was far shabbier than the rest of the building. Still, if work was to be done, one wasn't about to focus solely on the walls.

Both SeeDs had only just begun to inspect the bodies that lay on the floor beyond when Deilia finally arrived, taking in the situation with the same grim expression Quistis was wearing. Finally spying Quistis and Zell, she approached the SeeDs, who shook her head in response to the unvoiced question – the soldiers were dead.

"I appreciate the help, by the way." Deilia said, offering the younger woman a small smile. Quistis nodded in response and searched the premises for more bodies, finding two more near a set of controls, Zell moving to inspect the machinery. Both were head shots and Quistis wondered exactly what kind of human being would just waltz right into a room and start shooting at people.

"I think I've discovered why surveillance didn't pick anything up." Zell shouted from where he stood and Quistis looked up to see him fiddling with a monitor. Deilia stood beside Quistis even as the brawler explained himself. "The surveillance cameras were shut off, probably so we couldn't see who or what the intruder was up to."

"There's only one reason anyone would want to infiltrate a Missile Base." Quistis stated before turned around and examining the controls near the two bodies. The controls looked as though they had been destroyed from the inside out, and when she tried to press a couple of buttons, she frowned when nothing happened.

"Surveillance has been re-established." Zell's voice sounded, though Quistis wasn't paying any attention. Instead she looked up to the monitor and found the display; a small timer counting backwards from three minutes.

Her stomach sank like a stone as she tried to look for a switch that would abort the count down. She couldn't find one and turned to Deilia, catching her attention. "Do you know how to shut this thing off?"

Deilia spied the clock and her eyes widened in shock. She ran towards the first terminal she could before finding the appropriate button and slamming her fist on top of it. Quistis looked up to see if it had worked and frowned as the timer reached one minute, thirty seconds.

"Zell, work on deactivating that timer!" Quistis shouted. Zell acknowledge the order and, after leaping off the landing in order to stand by the terminal, he went to work.

"We need to warn whoever these Missiles are aimed for!" Deilia shouted, looking around furiously. She scanned the room for a moment before pointing towards another smaller monitor. "Over there! The co-ordinates readout should be over there. Contact the people in that area and tell them to get the hell outta there."

Quistis did as she was told, rushing towards the machine and picking up the phone, frowning when no dial tone came through. She tried pressing a couple of buttons, only to find that the device in her hand didn't work. She searched the object and realized that the phone wire was cut, probably by the man responsible for the launch. "The phone's dead!"

"They must have cut the wire." Deilia shouted in frustration before activating a device and speaking in hurried Estharian to whomever it was she was trying to contact.

"Dammit! The controls aren't responding!" Zell reported, even as he continuously worked on them. "Whoever set the timer must've destroyed the console. I don't think I can stop it."

"Try anyway." Quistis ordered and, with a shrug, the brawler set to work.

Quistis took a look at the readouts and her stomach sank to her feet when she recognized them, even as the countdown reached less than a minute and the automated voice took hold of the silence, alerting them that the missiles would hit their target within that time.

"My God…" Quistis whispered in morbid shock.

Just as the timer passed the sixty seconds time limit, the large screen changed, displaying the location that the missiles were aimed to hit.

* * *

The Commander was grabbing as many folders as he could, all of them containing surveillance photographs for what he wished to discuss with the Headmaster. Xu was standing in the doorway, waiting for him.

"Do you think now is really the time?" Xu asked from her vintage point. "From how the Headmaster sounded on the phone, he was pretty upset."

"I need to address this immediately; it's a security measure. I wish I could delay it, but there's no chance of that happening." The Commander stated.

Before Xu could make another comment, the long screen located at the Commanders right suddenly blinked on and diverted both of their attention to it. The screen displayed a location and both occupants of the room exchanged glances, wondering why they were viewing the familiar landscape.

* * *

Inside of Galbadia Garden, all activity had stopped from students and the faculty alike as every screen that was within the building displayed a specific building, one of which they didn't believe held any relevance to what they were doing at the moment. Martine, who had been re-instated as the Headmaster and Garden Master of the Garden, rose from his desk as the SeeDs he was talking to at the moment turned their attention to the monitor, all three of which held bad feelings about the display.

Ibrihim stared at the screen in shock, having just been about to contact the Dollet Authorities to ask after the surveillance tapes he had sent, only to see a landscape of which he had never seen before, but having obtained a lot of knowledge about within the last four months. He frowned, not liking what he was seeing or the foreboding feeling he was receiving from the image.

* * *

Esthar, Balamb, Trabia, Timber, Galbadia, Dollet; everywhere and anywhere that possessed a television screen or a holographic monitor displayed the exact same image. Even his screens had shifted to the lone building he knew was about to be destroyed. He smiled to himself and clasped his hands together in anticipation. "Let the fireworks begin."

* * *

Irvine stared at the holographic image placed before him in dull shock, trying to keep his exclamations quiet – he didn't want to wake up Rinoa, Hyne knew she needed her rest. But he had no idea why the building he was seeing was being viewed at this point in time – he had just been watching the news for any sign of news updates (he'd wanted to know exactly what the public was being told) when the screen simply changed.

"Irvy?"

Irvine jumped up at the sound of the familiar voice and noticed Selphie standing in the doorway; a soda can in hand as her eyes became glued to the screen. Irvine stared at her in horror; this was definitely something he didn't want the girl to see.

Selphie tilted her head to the side questioningly, her eyes still staring at the holographic screen. "Why's Trabia Garden on TV?"

Irvine jumped to his feet but before he could usher the small girl out of the room, something finally changed within the minute he had been sitting watching the Bika Fields on television. Something that was moving extremely fast raced passed whatever camera fixture was positioned just outside of the Garden before flying up into the air, smoke being the only thing that told the sharpshooter that he hadn't hallucinated the movement. His stomach dropped as the objects fell from the sky and landed on top of the Garden, a large explosion shaking the screen and dust flying right towards it.

Selphie's jaw dropped in horror as the can dropped from her hand, landing onto the ground and rolling towards the foot of the bed. Irvine caught her as her legs gave out, supporting her as they both watched the screen anxiously for any sign of what happened. Finally, the dust began to clear away and Selphie's breathing quickened as both took in the sight:

Trabia Garden had been completely destroyed.

The weight of the attack sunk in; all of the hard work that had gone into repairing the structure after the Missile launch in Galbadia had taken out most of the building, leaving a few hundred survivors to sort through the mess; everyone's hard work and determination to see the structure stand proudly as it once had was reduced to rubble within a mere moment. Irvine's hands clenched into fists even as he struggled to contain his temper. The thousands of people who had seen to the rebuild of the Garden were going to see this as a declaration of War from Esthar. The people who were actually living inside the structure while it was being rebuilt were probably all dead; nothing was left of the building, absolutely nothing.

He was dimly aware that Selphie was screaming in anguish, trying to deny what had happened, and he felt for her. Trabia Garden had been her home for most of her life, and it had almost killed her when the missiles from Galbadia had hit it barely four months ago. Irvine didn't know how she was going to recover from this tragedy –the only home she had ever truly known had just been destroyed right before her own eyes.

The doctors had come running as soon as they heard the screaming, but had stopped in the doorway as Irvine tried to console the crying girl in his arms as she wailed at the loss of her friends and family, as she questioned the Garden's destruction to begin with.

* * *

**10:46:10**

* * *

"The missiles were automated." Deilia spoke through the comlink. Laguna was listening intently to the report as he stared dumbly at the picture his own holographic screen was displaying in front of him. "According to Dincht, whoever did this set the Missiles to go off by some kind of remote control. The timer wasn't to activate the missile; it was counting down to when the missiles would hit their target."

"What about the override?" Laguna asked, Cid, Edea standing behind him with Nida in toe. Even the woman in the chair had looked up to witness the attack.

"The override controls were completely destroyed; we couldn't do anything to stop it."

Laguna sighed in disbelief. "How am I supposed to explain what happened to the citizens of this country, let alone the victims families, and the remaining two Gardens for that matter? That we had an intruder waltz into our missile base, activate our missiles and shoot them at an unsuspecting target who probably only had a few seconds warning that they were about to be killed."

"I believe the terrorists wanted this to happen." Quistis voice sounded from the loudspeaker. "They wanted the world to believe that Esthar planned the attack. From where it stands, the Gardens aren't going to want to listen to excuses. It doesn't matter if it's the truth; they'll just blame Estharian security for the slip up. Either way, the terrorists are just asking for a war to break out between the Gardens and Esthar."

"And we can't just sit around and let it happen!" Zell shouted over the loud speaker. "We gotta tell the Commander that it wasn't the Estharian Government's fault!"

"I will be the one to deal with that, Zell." Cid stated firmly. "We are not pawns to these people; Garden will have no part in playing the role of a vengeful force. Not only would it demean the Gardens, but it would make Squall's co-operation during the circumstances all in vain. We can't allow that to happen."

Just as Laguna was about to comment, however, the holographic image shifted slightly; almost as though someone was changing the channel from another room. The office door opened to reveal a Presidential Aid, right at that moment. "Sir, we've just received word from Galbadia; they witnessed the attacks and want to know what happened."

Before Laguna could respond, the image shifted again. He tapped at the controls in order to fix the image, only to discover that his frequency wasn't the source. "What the…?"

"A pitiful sight, isn't it?" A voice sounded and Laguna shot up from his seat, Nida, Edea and Cid searching the room for the source. They couldn't see anyone else standing in the room with them, aside from the Aid, and Laguna somehow doubted he was responsible for the sound.

"I think it's coming from the screen." Nida pointed out.

"Quistis, are you--?" Cid asked but was cut off.

"Yeah, we heard it from our end." The SeeD answered.

"They didn't even realize what was going to happen to them until it was too late." The voice continued. "I almost feel sorry for them."

The screen shifted once more, only this time rather than return to the Bika fields in Trabia, the background changed to black. For a moment, Laguna thought the damned thing was busted, but the voice continued to speak despite the back drop. "I'm more than certain that everyone on this planet has witnessed the destruction of the Garden. It looks like I have everyone's attention. I hope you're all listening for once."

Laguna detected movement and realized that there was someone standing in the darkness. He couldn't quite make them out, however from the outline he could tell the man – whoever he was – was dressed in light colours. "I wanted to gain everyone's attention, but don't worry about SeeD. They'll recover. After all, it's not the first time some super power blew up one of the Gardens. I chose Trabia because it was out of the way and considerably stronger than the other two; less chances of other people getting hurt this time."

"Where is this frequency coming from?" Laguna asked before activating his communications console. "I want a trace done on this visual. Now!"

"But getting back to the subject at hand. Most of you will believe that Esthar is the one responsible for the attack, just as Galbadia was more than four months ago. I have to say its half true. While, yes, Esthar possesses the only remaining missiles since Galbadia's own Missile Base was destroyed during the Sorceress War, they no longer have control over them. I've had personnel infiltrate the Missile Base in order to create this."

He held a small remote in his hand with a few dials and a red button positioned in the center. It appeared primitive at first glance, but upon closer inspection, Laguna could tell that it was constructed using Estharian parts.

"Before we get into the main topic at hand, I'd first like to clarify a few things. Most importantly, you may be wondering who exactly I am. It's the obvious question people would normally consider asking. And to those countries who are most likely trying to track this image, good luck, but you won't be very successful. However, since I'm not exactly the type to go into hiding, I'll show you exactly who it is you are dealing with."

The man stepped forward slowly, and his features became far more distinguishable than they had been.

* * *

The Galbadian Presidential Residence was forced to witness this transmission on all of their computer terminals. The President himself was in the conference room, where he was awaiting a response from the Estharian President, though it no longer seemed important. The Estharians weren't responsible for the Missile Launch; the terrorists were.

But as the figure moved into view, each and every member of the building recognized him instantly. Ibrihim Caraway dropped his serious and resolute expression and replaced it with shock and mortification. "It can't be…"

* * *

Commander Greenwood slumped back into his chair behind his desk, both hands slapping onto either side of his head. All colour drained from his face and Xu couldn't very well blame him. She could only guess that her features mirrored her superior's, and she could only imagine the reaction of the rest of the Garden, having been roused away by the Commander's announcement nearly an hour ago. "My god…"

* * *

Selphie had tried to get a hold of herself as soon as a voice began speaking. She and Irvine had both looked all over, only to discover that the voice was emitting from the hologram. But as soon as the figure had stepped into view, her jaw dropped. Irvine had been forced to collapse into a chair, but Selphie found she was rooted to the spot, tear stains still streaking her cheeks as she stared at the screen in disbelief. "I don't believe this…"

"It's not possible," Irvine said, mirroring her shock.

* * *

Everyone all over the planet was privy to this spectacle, just as they had with the destruction of Trabia Garden. The man whom was claiming total and utter responsibility for an attack on the force who was responsible for the resulting peace of the Sorceress Wars end had come right into view. No one could believe what they were seeing or hearing, even as the figure looked back up at them, his features unmistakably familiar.

Inside of the Presidential Office in Esthar, the room was silent. Edea's hands were clasped over her mouth in shock and Cid stared at the screen in absolute horror. Nida appeared as though his whole world had just crumbled, and Christine was now rising to her feet, even though it appeared the strength had gone out of her. The comlink connecting the personnel at the Missile Base to the office had gone silent; no doubt they were in shock at what they were witnessing.

Squall Leonhart looked up at the screen portraying his visage across the globe, his arms outstretched at either side and unhindered by the Estharian prison uniform he still wore. Because of the junctions he'd possessed before handing them over to security, the bruising he'd received from the beating he'd taking in interrogation had disappeared. However, there were some scratches and bruising, possibly from the plane crash – which had to mean that his location was close to the crash site. Either way, the dark haired teenager stared at everyone through the holographic screen and frowned. "I don't suppose any of you saw this coming, did you?"

"I knew it…" everyone's gaze turned towards Christine, who'd collapsed into the chair she'd been sitting in moments ago. "I knew something like this was going to happen from my analysis of him, but I didn't realize it would happen so soon."

She looked up and turned her attention towards the SeeD personnel, before speaking brokenly. "You should have known how troubled he was when he was a child. He should never have been allowed to become a SeeD; the experience has only warped him. He's sick; and the pressure everyone put on him didn't help matters, in fact they only made things worse."

"This isn't a joke," Squall's voice broke in once again. "Nor is this a prank, nor is it some kind of publicity stunt. This is cold, hard reality. The Estharian public had it almost right. Yes, I was involved in the attacks that took place earlier today, but not in the way everyone suspected. As I repeatedly tried to tell everyone who questioned me, I was in Deling at the time of the crime, and thus could not have participated in the act. I did, however, have a body double and, as much as I would have rather done the job myself, I couldn't afford to have been caught, so I caused this kind of confusion; stalling time while those whom I've been working with collected the necessary things we needed in order for our goals to be met; for example, this remote control that launches missiles at unsuspecting cities.

"By the way, don't bother trying to undo the programming. The only ones who can are the men and women who regularly work at the Missile Base and they're kinda dead."

"It's true!" Zell said through the comlink. "I've tried to reprogram the terminals, but it's just not working."

"Now that I have everyone's complete and undivided attention, let's begin with the negotiations, shall we?" Squall continued. "Obviously, I won't overload you with multitudes of demands; some of you might forget them all if I did things that way. So, each of my demands will be followed by another one as soon as the original request has been completed. First and foremost, I want the entire Estharian cabinet and government to officially step down from office. And yes, that includes their President as well."

"That will leave Esthar completely without any guidance, unless another party takes over." Cid explained. "What does he think he can accomplish with that?"

"Of course, you all must be thinking that there's no way the Estharians will concede to that demand, and that they'll compile their forces in order to stop me and whoever else I have working with me. You see, I thought of that as well, which is what this thing is for." He held up the remote again and, with dread, Laguna realized he was deadly serious. "If this demand is not met in the next two hours, then another city will end up just like Trabia Garden. I don't want to have to resort to that, but don't think I won't if you leave me no choice."

The screen finally went blank and silence filled the room, no one speaking for the time being until Cid finally broke it. "Straight to the point and exceptionally concise." He mused aloud. Laguna knew what he was thinking; that had most certainly been Squall talking to them all. Had it been an impostor, they would have begun rambling on about other things. No, Squall never bothered talking about anything that didn't pertain to the subject at hand.

"So what are we going to do now?" Nida asked.

"We head back to the Garden." Cid explained. Laguna noticed that the Headmaster appeared somewhat subdued. "We'll figure out where we go from there."

* * *

He wandered through the snow filled land, his legs aching from having to move throughout the frozen element. He no longer knew exactly how long he'd been walking; only that he was tired and cold and wanted so badly to sleep.

His head hurt; the feeling amplified with each movement the appendage made. He had no bearing as to where he was or where he was headed; only that shelter was close by. He'd heard something loud in the distance before the ground had started to shake, but he had no idea what it was or how far away the sound had come from.

His legs finally gave out from underneath him and soon he found that he was lying face first into the snow that blanketed the ground beneath him. He turned his head to the side in an attempt to prevent himself from drowning, but somehow he understood that this was the end. He couldn't move another step and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that if he stayed where he was he probably would never get back up. For some strange reason he didn't care anymore; it unsettled him but he no longer had the energy to try and figure that one out.

His eyelids felt very heavy to him; the wind was blowing the snow all over the place and it was beginning to irritate his eyes. Overhead something towered over him; even if he wanted to he couldn't pull himself up in order to see what it was.

Well, whatever it was, it started making sounds; he couldn't discern what those sounds were, and eventually his eyelids slid closed as slumber took him away from the cold.

* * *

**_11:00:00 _**


	10. Hour 10

Chapter Posted: **04/21/2007**

* * *

_**The following takes place between 11am and 12pm.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

* * *

Jared believed had believed things were going to get a lot worse before they could even begin to get better. But he hadn't expected the holographic uplink to set itself up and the display the destruction of a Garden right in front of his eyes.

If first and foremost concern upon watching Trabia Garden's destruction – a Garden the whole world had banded together in order to rebuild after it's original destruction during the Sorceress War – was how others who viewed this would feel. The last thing anyone needed was for people to point the finger at one another. The Estharians were most likely to receive the brunt of the accusations rather than give them; after all it was _their_ missiles.

But to have the perpetrator admit to launching those missiles, and then to reveal himself as the very man they had incarcerated up until recently was very alarming.

They'd had the right guy alright; Squall Leonhart had admitted to the entire world his connection to the attacks, even if he hadn't been the one to personally execute them.

_The attacks in the prison and the assassination attempt on his life must have been part of the plan,_ he thought to himself. _He must have wanted to leave the country; in order to execute the plan – he said he'd needed to stall until his men had had everything they needed after all._

He had no idea what it was they were going to do now; true, the world knew it hadn't been Esthar's fault, but that also meant there was most certainly a mole in Esthar; maybe more that that. As far as he knew, Operative Oakwood would be investigating the security tapes herself – with the absence of James Logans, she was now in charge – and hopefully she'd be able to find something.

Currently, he was heading to the Presidential Office, where he and the rest of the cabinet – save for Harold Schipner of course – would meet directly with the President. The Garden personnel were already preparing to leave; it seemed they figured they'd be able to work more precisely back at their headquarters, so there would be no concern for unwanted ears.

When he arrived, he discovered that he was the last one to do so; everyone else who was supposed to be there was. Chairs had been set up along the Presidential desk and everyone was seated, leaving the chair directly in front of the President vacant for himself.

"I just spoke with the Galbadian President a moment ago," President Loire started, though it appeared as though the new developments on the situation were most difficult on him. "He knows of the situation and understands that it was not Esthar's fault the Garden was destroyed. The Garden representatives and, quite possible, Garden itself understand this as well, and will not be launching retaliatory actions."

Jared sighed in relief; it was good news for once.

"But moving onto the subject at hand," the President continued. "I've also received word from Galbadia that they will be aiding in the search of Squall Leonhart and whoever else is working with him. Aside from wanting this government to step down, I'm not entirely sure of his motives."

"There's also the subject of the Sorceress," Carol Shu stated. "According to the information Christine was able to compile, he is her knight. We may have to make the assumption that she may join forces with him."

"But at the same time, that's not at all probable." Christine jumped in. "Rinoa Heartilly is her own person; her reasons for fighting in the Sorceress War are clearly unknown, but at the same time, I don't believe she'd approve of her Knight's actions. She may even attempt to stop him on her own."

"It might have been better if we'd sent her into space after all," the elderly woman, Diane Ross, spoke.

"Well, what's done is done; we can't do anything about it now." Jared said, trying to steer the subject back to the topic at hand. It was a well known fact that President Loire had ordered the soldiers stationed at the Sorceress' Memorial to stand down and allow the SeeDs to rescue her. "She's with the Garden personnel now, so I suppose we'll just have to trust their judgement and allow them to keep their eyes on her."

"Agreed." President Loire stated, signalling that the subject had been closed. Jared didn't argue with him. "Sq—the terrorist announced that any and all attempts to track his location through the announcement wouldn't work. Was he right?"

"Unfortunately we haven't been able to find out anything concerning his current whereabouts." Daniel Jackman answered. "Though we have a pretty good guess, considering he was on the plane that crashed. We can send a scout team to search the area."

The President nodded his consent to the suggestion.

"But more importantly," Mark Hummel jumped in. "We know that the attacks at the prison were an inside job and I would say it's safe to assume the Missile Base was done by the same person, if not an accomplice. Either way, someone in the prisons was in on it."

Jared noticed Christine suddenly grew paler than she was when he'd first arrived. He didn't want to have to address it now, but he knew someone else would. "Christine, what is it?"

All eyes turned to her as the blonde woman swallowed hard. "I think I might have seen personnel in the prison uniforms heading to the east elevator."

"When was this?"

"On my way up here to file a report." Christine said. "I thought I'd been mistaken – I saw how well guarded the prisons were after the attack, and I figured it must have been a trick of the light."

"Whether or not it was the trick of the light, you should have reported it, just to be safe." Carol snapped. "If you had seen the man responsible, then the Missiles wouldn't have launched and the men and women working in the Missile Base would still be alive. Not to mention, the countless lives that were lost in Trabia!"

"What did he look like?" Jared asked. "Besides the uniform."

"Short dark hair, greying at the sides," Christine said as she appeared to struggle with her memory. "Not very old… I'd say roughly fifty, even if that. Fairly tall…"

"Be on the lookout of a man in his middle ages dressed in a prison guard's uniform. He has dark greying hair that is short and is a fairly tall individual." The President spoke into his intercom. "I want the man found and detained with team headed over to question him. Let me know as soon as you find him."

"Affirmative sir." Deilia's voice sounded before the transmission was cut.

* * *

He watched, enthralled by the events that had just transpired and couldn't believe how well everything had gone so far. It was amazing how quickly people forgot who was the one who saved them all from the brink of destruction when he himself was the cause of it. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all; a man who had saved the world from the Sorceress was now the cause for its destruction.

He wondered briefly how the _real_ Squall Leonhart would take the news.

Flipping the remote he'd managed to receive from one of their followers on the inside – O'Ryan he recalled the name being - he grinned at himself in the mirror. He was still marvelled on how utterly alike he and Leonhart looked now. His hair, originally long and lighter toned, had been cut short and dyed in order to match the younger males, and his eyes had been dyed the appropriate colour – though suffice it to say blue that appeared grey at the best of times was extremely difficult to find. The prison suit had been the easiest to acquire from their men working within the penitentiary. As they'd viewed the events in the prison, they'd made the appropriate changes to the ensemble in order to match Leonhart's description perfectly. It appeared to have worked.

Now that the world believed him to be the terrorist, he could wear whatever he wanted – as long as it matched Leonhart's profile.

But that was fine; the both of them shared nearly the same taste in clothes anyway.

Before he could change, however, he need progress reports. He'd just received one from Elaina, who had told him that Harold Schipner was no longer any concern. He hadn't really cared what would happen to the old coot; just so long as he didn't start getting any ideas.

Besides, the cabinet member's sudden disappearance was sure to distract them – even if only a little bit.

He strode out of the room that served as his chambers – for the time being at least – and headed towards a set of men working on some technical equipment. "Have you located him yet?" he asked in Leonhart's voice.

The voice itself was probably the most difficult thing to replicate. Having acquired a voice synthesizer, they had recorded the SeeD's voice onto the device, but the mechanical tone that sounded though the voice was a hindrance – if they wanted the world to believe him to be a terrorist, then they needed it to be one hundred percent perfect.

He'd fiddled with the device, having had a talent in creating new little gadgets for the Adelists' usage, and eventually, he'd managed to make the synthesizer sound natural, almost as though it really was Leonhart talking. It had been the key in convincing that stupid soldier outside of the Presidential Residence of his assumed identity, even covering up his own personal accent and replacing it with his. Unfortunately, no other voice would be able to be recorded onto the device, but it didn't really matter. His role was simply to play the fallen hero.

According to the readouts he'd just managed to look over across the screen he was standing in front of, he'd done an excellent job of it.

"Unfortunately a complication has turned up." The subordinate answered. "Our personnel was searching for him, but it seems the Garden tracked him down before our sources could take him out."

The impostor frowned. "Well that's not going according to plan…" he mused to himself. "How long ago was he found?"

"Before Trabia Garden was destroyed." The man answered. "According to our sources, he's being held for the time being until the Headmaster and his team return to speak with the Commander."

"Just what we don't need." He frowned. They had been looking for this man for the last two months, only to have him apprehended by Garden authorities. It would make getting to him that much more difficult, and they couldn't have that. If he was even permitted to know anything that had already taken place, the plan would fall apart. Even his performance probably wouldn't hold up. "How long until the Headmaster arrives?"

"Before the hour is up, I think." The drone answered. "And he's under lock and key. If our spies get to him, the Garden'll be suspicious."

"Then he stays alive… for the moment. But when an opportunity comes forth, I want him dealt with before he can open his big mouth."

"Relax Christopher."

The impostor, Christopher whirled on the spot but visibly relaxed when he recognized the figure. "Sir, it seems our second target is under lock and key in the Garden. We can't get to them without alerting unwanted attention."

"Have faith in our men, Christopher. He will be dealt with. Just keep up that performance of yours and we'll do perfectly. You almost had _me_ convinced."

He moved passed Christopher to stand behind his subordinate. "Have you located the _real_ Leonhart?"

"Elaina's team is on it, but so far they haven't found anything." The drone answered. "It's snowing pretty badly out there as well; if Leonhart made any tracks they'd probably be covered up pretty quickly after that."

"Then tell her to report back here for further briefing." The man exclaimed and even Christopher was confused by the order.

"But if we do that, the Leonhart'll get away."

"Didn't I tell you to relax?" the man smiled. "If we can't track him then we can't find him. But it's highly unlikely that he'll stay in one spot for very long. You announced it yourself; he doesn't like to sit on the sidelines while everyone else does his dirty work. If he can figure out a way to assist his comrades, even if they are looking for his arrest and capture, then he'll come out into the open and we'll have our next chance."

Christopher nodded slightly. He did have a point. "You're right. Sorry about my reaction."

"Remember, it's your job to be able to think like him. You have a public to convince of your role, and we can't afford to have that mucked up."

"Sorry sir."

"But nevertheless, the plan is moving along smoothly. Because of that little spectacle, the entire world is going to be looking elsewhere, at least for the meantime. But we can't execute the next stage of this plan until Leonhart is captured, so have our spies keep an eye out for him; especially in the Timber region. There's only one way to get off the continent without an aircraft and we can't let him get away."

* * *

He arrived at the cabin, brushing snow off his sleeves as he closed the door behind him. He'd already been inside once before, only to be sent back out in case someone spotted him. He knew his wife could be paranoid at times, but it had helped them some during their fifty years together.

He was a rather tall and skinny man, with white hair that hadn't begun to bald nor would it. He had to admit that both sides of his family were blessed without the curse of male-pattern baldness. He pulled off the brown parka he had on and placed it the appropriate hook before untying his snow shoes and setting them aside as well.

"Cold out?" his wife asked from the other room. He smiled at her joke as he moved further into the cabin.

His home was a nice and modest place; a fire was started in a fireplace off to the right hand side of the wall, and a carpet was positioned right in front of it, for when he and his wife, or quite possibly their dog – a cross between a Great Dane and a Blood Hound – wanted to sit or lie by the fire. The walls were decorated modestly; with some photographs from past years – mostly his, as his wife preferred not to dwell in the past. A nice couch sat a few feet away from the fire and a couple of arm chairs were placed on either side of it positioned on an angle. The bedroom was further down the hallway.

He moved into the kitchen and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. "Weather's just fine, thank you." He announced as he moved to her right and out of her way. Normally during this time of day, she would be feeding the dog his kibble, however now she was preparing thermal bags. They'd recently had to use their prepared stash when their power had gone out unexpectedly, but that was no longer a problem.

The woman was short and stocky, but very healthy. Her long white hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore her dressing gown overtop a plain white shirt and black skirt to keep her warm. Picking up the pile of hot water bottles she'd prepared already, she moved back into the living room with them tucked underneath her arms. "Be a dear and prepare more of those for me? I need to tend to what you brought into my house."

He smiled and didn't respond, simply doing as asked. "It wasn't me that found 'im. T'was the dog's fault if you wanna blame somebody."

He heard his wife chuckle in the other room and, once he'd prepared another set of bottles, he moved away from the sink and headed into the living room after his wife. She was currently seated along the couch, position the bottles of hot water along the body that currently resided there.

When Edward Harper had been in the middle of taking the dog, George, for a walk, the dog had caught a whiff of something and had run off. At the age of seventy-three and fit enough to run a marathon, Edward had chased after him, knowing his wife Edna would kill him if he lost sight of the mutt. When the dog was but a pup, he used to play games like this all the time and Edward had loved chasing him through the snow banks and playing with him.

But this time, the dog wasn't playing. The animal stopped after a few minutes of running this way and that and when Edward finally caught up, he couldn't believe what the dog had found. A body, lying in the snow, freshly collapsed from what he could tell – the body'd have been covered by then if he'd been there a while. Edward had cursed lightly and bent down, checking the corpse, only to find that it wasn't a corpse – whoever it was was still alive.

Quickly, Edward had removed his coat to blanket the guy – finding that he was nothing short of a boy barely of age. He knew he really shouldn't be moving him if he was unconscious – his body could go into shock after all – but he also knew he couldn't leave him there to freeze, so he'd carried the young man back to the house so that Edna could tend to him.

As soon as he'd arrived and Edna had seen what he'd managed to bring him this time (Edward was in the habit of bringing home wounded animals to tend to. Once he even brought home a baby Blue Dragon and they'd kept the poor thing until its wing had been mended), she'd ordered him to put the boy close to the fire in order to warm up. She'd then told him to search around in case he found anyone else, but as he'd gotten geared up to go back out into the cold, she'd changed the order to make sure nobody followed him.

He'd just returned from doing that that.

Now the boy lay on the couch with hot water bottles underneath joints and limbs even as Edna covered him with a wool blanket. "Certainly hope he's not allergic." Edward joked.

"Never you mind," Edna said. "Gotta keep him warm and hope that the frostbite didn't do too much damage."

Neither one spoke for a moment, simply rising to their feet – though Edward had to admit after the days exercise the back of his knees felt stiff. George moved to the carpet before circling it once and lying down, falling into a sleep.

"I gave the dog a treat while you were gone." Edna remarked. "He's a good boy," she said as she moved closer to the animal and started rubbing at his ears. George didn't pay her any mind as she continued, her attention turned back to Edward. "You know I was watching something interesting before you came back."

"I thought the only thing you found interesting was your stories?" Edward remarked.

"No, no, no, my stories were interrupted by some strange broadcast. First one of the buildings – a Garden they said it was – was shown for a minute before missiles appeared and blew the whole thing up."

"They should issue an apology." Edward said. "That's not something the little kiddies should be watching."

"But then some young man came on the screen and said he wanted the Estharian government to step down before he made any more demands and if they didn't, then in two hours they'd blow up another city." Edna sighed. "The things people do today to get attention."

"Do you think this youngin's involved somehow?"

"Hmm, well… I wouldn't doubt it. But the man on the screen definitely looked like him. I wonder if that was on purpose."

"Mighta been." Edward said as he sat down in one of the arm chairs. "Though, which one's the real one I wonder?"

"I have a feeling that George found him." Edna remarked. "It's just a feeling though. I might be mistaken."

Edward doubted that; whenever Edna got her feelings, something big always happened. And she was always right about her suspicions. It was the reason she'd married him after all.

She'd had one of those feelings recently; about a week before the nonsense about a Galbadian ambassador had been aired to the world.

"Well, I trust your judgement and I'll stick with it, just like I always do." Edward stated and Edna looked up at him and smiled.

"Could you get the soup ready? Just in case he wakes up soon?"

"Doubt that'll happen." Edward said. "He's pretty cold right now; it might take a while."

He stopped suddenly and stared at her for a moment. "You're havin' one of those feelin's again, aren't ya?"

"That I am."

Edward nodded once again. "Well then, I guess there's nothin' left for me to do besides makin' that soup."

* * *

**11:11:49**

* * *

Estharian crafts had managed to make it to the crash site within fifteen minutes of being sent out. Because it had been a transport mission, the plane traveling towards the Shumi Village had been a lower standard one and would have taken two hours to arrive at the Winter Island. Because the Estharian military possesses air-crafts that are faster than regular transport flyers, they managed to get to the crash site far faster.

So far they hadn't been able to find anything besides debris. If any of the terrorists had survived and tried to escape, their prints weren't showing, possibly due to the snow that continued to descend from the sky. If there had been any tracks made, they were covered up by now and without a trail, they had no way of finding them.

"Sir! We've found a body!"

The Captain of the team, Jonas Bartona, moved towards a squad who had been searching under the debris of the ruined plane, only to find an arm. The team was desperately trying to pry the prone figure from underneath the rubble and after a few good tries, they managed to succeed, Jonah's expression turning grim. The man they found was none other than James Logans, Chief of Security, and he didn't look like he was in good shape. His clothes were torn, there were cuts and bruises from where the debris had fallen on top of him, and there were burn marks from the torso down. It looked as though he had been caught when the fuel tank exploded.

Jonas quickly checked for a pulse and was thankful to find one, though it was loosing stride too quickly for Jonas' taste. "Get a medic over here!" Jonas shouted and one of his men did as he was told, leaving to complete his task, even when another shout distracted Jonas from Logans' body.

"Sir, we've found another body!"

Jonas quickly moved towards the other side of the plane and indeed found what his comrade had. The body was pretty ruined; the victim having burned during the explosion. He had no idea whether or not the man had been a pilot or a passenger; the body was lying on the ground behind the seat of the plane, and when he turned the corpse over, he and his comrade stepped back, the smell being too much for them. The face was unrecognizable – aside from Logans, it could have been any of the other passengers.

Pulling out his comlink, he established connection with an open channel and waited a moment until someone answered. "Patch me through to the Presidential Office; I need to file my report."

* * *

The meeting between the President and the cabinet members had adjourned a few minutes earlier, and the soldiers had been informed to keep an eye out for a man fitting the description Christine had managed to provide. Burton had been instructed by James to personally attend to the search of the mole, and when he'd received this description, it had helped matters a lot. Already he'd managed nearly everyone in the penitentiary, and the men he was working with had already announced that three men who fit the description were not the mole.

"Anyone else fitting this description please step forward now." Burton stated, slightly annoyed when no one else stepped forward. They'd counted the full list of those who were on duty at the time of the attack, and he knew they hadn't questioned everyone yet.

"Alright, does anyone know anyone else who fits this description?"

No one said anything at first, and when Burton assumed they wouldn't say anything at all, one man stepped forward. He had very dark brown hair and a boyish face; something he wouldn't have thought he'd seen from a penitentiary guard. "What about O'Ryan? I haven't seen him since the attacks."

More of the guards murmured thoughtfully, and Burton frowned. "Does anybody know where he is?"

"No sir," the one guard answered, and judging from the expressions on everyone else's faces, no one else did either.

Burton pulled two of his men aside and lowered his voice as he spoke. "I'm going to need to get a photograph of this man. He might actually be the one we're looking for. Still, look into the alibis of everyone else we've questioned who fits that description and get me photographs of them. Maybe the witness will recognize who she saw if we show her some pictures."

Both men nodded and each of them set out to do their job.

* * *

When he began to regain consciousness, he realized he was lying on his back rather than on his stomach as he had. The last thing he could recall was collapsing into the snow and then nothing.

After letting Logans out of the plane and casting the float spell so he wouldn't die from the height of the fall, he had prepared himself to jump out right afterwards, except the cabinet representative had grabbed him from behind. They'd had a struggle before he'd hit his head off the wall on the opposite side of the plane. Before the traitor could've done anything else, the plane had crashed.

Everything was a little hazy after that, but he'd managed to get his bearings straight. He'd found the pilot lying on the floor behind his seat, but when he checked his vitals he'd realized he'd been too late. He'd wanted to check on the representative – maybe even find a way to bring him back with him to Esthar – but there had been a fire separating the two. After a minute, the old man had gotten back up, but by then he'd already pulled himself out of an adjacent window, intent on find help.

When he was a short distance away, the plane had exploded.

After that'd he'd wandered through the snow, trying not to think about how cold he was in the prison jumpsuit, he'd tried to collect his thoughts enough to come up with a plan. Unfortunately, his head had been pounding; he couldn't even hear himself think. After a while, he'd heard something back the way he had come and when he'd turned around to investigate, he'd seen the sky had lit up for a moment before the strange lights had vanished. Still unable to collect his thoughts, he'd continued on. He didn't know how far he'd traveled after that, however he definitely remembered collapsing into the snow.

But now the surface he lay on was soft. It wasn't very big and when he moved his left arm, he felt it hang out from underneath something. The back of his head was also supported by something and he could tell the running shoes he'd been wearing since being arrested were gone.

He attempted to force his eyes to open, wanting to be able to see his surroundings and eventually he was able to do so slowly, despite his body's protests. He wondered briefly how long he'd been out of it before suddenly realizing he should have been dead by then.

So where exactly was he?

When he was able to focus, he realized he was lying on a couch just in front of a fire. He was staring at the ceiling of what appeared to be a wooden cabin; the décor modest but also possessing somewhat of a homey feeling. It almost reminded him of the orphanage.

Forcing himself into a sitting position, he was surprised to find a wool blanket draped over a good portion of his body. He was still wearing the prison uniform, and it was wet from its exposure to the elements. He was grateful whoever it was that had brought him here hadn't decided to strip him while he'd been unconscious.

His body felt stiff from the cold, and as he flexed his arms to ensure that they still worked, he examined his surroundings a bit more closely. Directly across from him was a lit fire place, and on either side of him where two large overstuffed chairs. The floor was mostly wooden, but there were a couple of carpets lying around; one directly in front of the door leading back outside, another leading into the kitchen and a third set out in front of the fire place.

Just as he was about to move from where he was sitting, a large brown thing jumped up into his face and made a barking sound.

Squall started slightly, moving back slightly until he realized that it was an oversized dog with long flopping ears. It barked again, and Squall felt slightly sheepish that it had managed to catch him off guard. The only consolation was that no one he knew had been around to see it happen.

He heard footfalls from behind and when he turned around he saw an elderly frumpy looking woman. Her white hair was tied behind her into a messy bun and she wore a blue frilled dress with an apron strapped along her waist. As soon as she moved into the room and stared at him in shock. "Oh, thank goodness, you are awake," she said in a Trabia accent. "I was beginning to worry, but I must admit; it is very surprising it happened so very soon."

The dog barked again and the woman smiled as she sat down in the chair. Her hands were clasped together as she leaned forward. "You really should thank him, you know. Had George not found you in the snow, well, let's not think about that."

He hadn't thought there was any civilization anywhere near the plane sight. He knew there were a couple of port towns; one close to Trabia Garden, and one on the opposite side of the continent near a Chocobo Forest. He'd be damned if he knew which direction he'd been walking in.

"After George found you, my husband brought you here." The woman spoke, unhindered by his silence. "No one followed him, in case you were wondering of course. I doubt anyone could've caught up to him, even at his age."

"Where are we?" he asked finally. His mind was so muddled up; he couldn't completely discern which direction he'd gone. He could've guessed all he'd want, but he wanted unambiguous answers.

"In Trabia." The woman stated vaguely after a moment. "Near Nighbelle. The city just a half hour's drive from here."

She stared at him for a moment, even as he tried to collect his bearings, before speaking again. "You must rest; you don't look so well."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically.

"So you say, but your body tells otherwise." The woman declared sternly. "From the looks of it, you hit your head very hard on something. From the way your eyes wince, your head must be pounding. And from how pale you look, you need nutrients and some rest to regain your strength."

Squall suddenly felt as though he were back in the Garden infirmary with Dr. Kadowaki, after another incident with Seifer, or an accident in the Training Center. She would've told him the same thing; that he needed to rest the injury in order to get better. But that meant waiting. He hated waiting above most things; especially when he knew everyone else was searching for the terrorists.

"Edward! He is awake! Come in here!" the woman said in a booming voice.

He lay back down, even though he knew he shouldn't be resting when there was so much to be done, but he also knew better than to argue with someone who acted like Kadowaki; it had never gotten him anywhere in the past. Still, he couldn't afford to stay very long.

"So, are you going to tell us what happened to you?" the woman asked as a tall skinny old man with white hair came in. He was wearing a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

"I was on a plane," Squall finally conceded. "and it crashed."

"I did feel the ground shake while I was on my walk." The elderly man said with the same accent as the woman. Squall could see that both of them were wearing gold rings and from the looks of it, they were married. "Could've crashed nearby."

"Was anyone else hurt?" the woman asked. Squall shook his head.

"One was dead. Another was injured. The third is alive somewhere." That was all he was prepared to offer on the subject. "I can't stay here very much longer…"

"But you must rest." The woman protested even as Squall rose back up and prepared to stand from the couch. "You shouldn't even been conscious right now."

"I don't know if you're aware, but there were terrorists' attacks in Esthar earlier today." Squall said. He knew he couldn't get into the specifics, but he needed them to know of the situation. Maybe then they'd let him go. "I don't know how long I was out of it, but I can't just lay here and do nothing while this happens. Maybe even contact the Garden near here…"

Both husband and wife exchanged concerned glances and it was then that Squall realized there was something he was missing. "Something else happened. " It wasn't a question.

"While my husband was out on his walk with the dog, a strange broadcast came on the television." The woman explained. It showed a structure in the middle of nowhere – snow was everywhere – but after a moment, the structure exploded."

Squall felt the colour drain from his features as he listened. The structure out in the middle of nowhere… there were only three structures in the world he could think of that would've been susceptible for an attack, and one of them had already been destroyed once; was in the midst of being repaired. Unfortunately the latter was the only one surrounded by snow. It had to have been Trabia. "How did this happen?"

"I caught sight of missiles on the screen." The woman answered.

Another missile strike. Squall knew that Galbadia's Missile Base had been destroyed when Selphie's team had infiltrated it during the Sorceress War. Balamb Garden had been saved – her team had managed to mess with the targeting system before the building had exploded – but unfortunately Trabia Garden had been levelled.

He also knew that, though they were the only country in the world to have a Missile Base remaining, the Estharians wouldn't launch Missiles at SeeD, even if they did believe one of their own was a terrorist themselves. That had to mean that the real terrorists had somehow gained control of the Missile Base.

Still, he knew that Selphie was going to be devastated. If the situation had been difference; if Galbadia Garden had been levelled instead, Irvine would have been the same way. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened had Balamb been the target.

"Not again," he thought aloud and wasn't aware he had done so until the man spoke.

"This has happened before?" he asked and Squall nodded.

"The same Garden was targeted for a Missile attack little over five months ago. It was still in the midst of being repaired. Did the terrorists own up to this?"

"They did." The woman answered. "A young man appeared soon after the building's destruction and announced that he wanted Esthar's Government and their President to step down or it would happen again to another city in two hours."

"Can you describe him?" Squall asked. "It's important; he might be in league with the terrorists."

"I agree with you, and I can describe him." The woman said without hesitation. "He looked just like you."

It took a minute to wrap his head around those words and when he caught up, he was floored. The terrorists were using the same tactic they had in order to invade the Presidential Residence. If that was the case, then the entire world was being made to believe he was responsible for the attack.

But he had to ask the old woman something. "If the terrorist looked like me, then why did you help me?"

"Because I know it was not you." The woman answered simply as she rose to her feet. "Edward, is the soup ready?"

"I'll go get it." The man, Edward said as he went back into the kitchen.

Squall stared at the woman strangely. She had just admitted that the man she'd witnessed making a terrorist act looked identical to himself. And yet she knew it wasn't him. How was that possible? "Can I ask you why you think that?" he asked.

"Well, you aren't, are you?"

"No." his response came quickly.

"Then I believe you." The woman said.

Squall was quickly growing frustrated. "But why?"

"Because it was not possible for my husband to be finding you while I was watching you ordering a government to its knees." She answered simply.

"How do you know it wasn't a recording?" he asked.

"Because as the explosion on the screen took place, the sky lit up to the east for a few seconds." The woman answered. "It was a live broadcast, and one man cannot be in two places at once. It is as simple as that. Since you are here and could not have been part of the attack, then it is he who is the impostor he was talking about."

"Impostor?" Squall was beginning to realize this woman knew quite a bit more than what she was letting on.

"The terrorist attacks you mentioned earlier. This man said he was not directly responsible for them, but that he sent in a double in order to make them suspect him."

"I was the one they arrested." Squall mused aloud. "Which means they needed me out of the way for something. Or was it some kind of distraction?"

"Which is why you must stay, if only to make certain those people cannot find you." The woman said.

"No, it means I have to leave as soon as possible. If they're looking for me, they'll eventually come here. I can't put either of you in danger; especially after what you've done for me already."

"But you are still injured up here," she said as she pointed to her head. "it is too dangerous for you."

"I've been in worse condition." Squall assured her. Of course, he couldn't think of any off hand, but she didn't need to know that.

"Well," she said, sighing slightly. "I cannot stop you from doing what you feel you have to. But I can tell you to sit down and eat some soup before you get ready. You won't be walking to town; not after what has happened to you. Edward and I will be more than happy to give you a ride to the city. And what exactly do you expect to accomplish in those clothes?"

Squall looked down at himself and realized he was still wearing the prison uniform. He'd almost forgotten about that. The woman certainly hadn't.

"Finish up in here and I will give you a set of clothes of my nephews. He comes around from time to time to visit, and leaves his things behind all the time. I'm sure he won't mind donating them to a good cause."

Squall had heard that tone before from Edea when he was still at the orphanage. No matter the context, it always meant 'I don't care if they care; it's their own fault anyway'. "Thanks," he said a little uncertainly as he leaned back into the couch.

"Don't mention it." The woman said brightly. "We need the storage space anyway."

* * *

**11:27:56**

* * *

So far, according to the rescue team, they weren't having any luck.

As soon as Trabia's destruction had been televised, they'd been dispatched in the hopes they may have been able to find any survivors. They'd arrived in very good time, but when they'd seen the destruction from overhead, the team didn't know exactly how much they would be able to do.

SeeDs forces would be arriving soon, as would Galbadia's, but because it had been Estharian missile that had been fired, the Estharians chose not to wait and began rummaging through as much debris as they possibly could. From what they could tell, it was even worse than when the Sorceress had launched missiles at the Garden a little over four months prior. At least there had been remains for survivors to hide in. Now there didn't appear to be much left to repair.

It was despicable of the terrorists; they show an image of the Gardens for everyone to see and give the people residing there only a minute to evacuate before the missiles dove down and blew the building up. Jameson Foray knew it was a long shot, but he was determined to find any survivors of this wreckage and cart them off to Esthar in order to get the treatment they would need.

Foray's team moved along the wreckage slowly, checking bodies they'd found, only to find that they were dead. Still Foray moved along; maybe a shelter had survived.

Even the graveyard that had been erected for those who had died during the first attack was gone; broken granite lying in its wake.

"Squad A to Alpha Squad; we have not found any survivors as of yet. Continuing the search, over!"

He received an affirmation and knew his report was going to be sent to Esthar. Of course when SeeD arrived, they would be heading the search; it was their Garden even if most of the people had been everyone else's.

They moved into the courtyard, and found that what was left of it was now blown to ruin. The fountain was destroyed and the pathway was reduced to rubble. Still Foray pressed onwards in the hopes of finding something.

Though he was concerned for the livelihood of anyone who had been in the Garden when it had been blown to scrap, there was one reason alone why he was searching so hard:

His daughter, Patti, had just arrived a few days prior in order to help with the efforts.

Patti was a good girl; had graduated top of the class, and gone to college to become a doctor. But as soon as people were putting together relief squads in order to fix up the broken Garden, she had wanted to join up right away. Of course Foray and his wife had had concerns, but eventually Patti had convinced them to let her go.

He was doing everything he could to maintain his calm; holding out hope that his little girl had survived the attack.

The one thing that helped was the knowledge that everyone here had been someone else's brother, sister, husband, wife, mother, father, daughter, and son, and that those people deserved to know if their children were alright. After the fiasco with the Estharian General in the wee hours of the morning, Foray had been questioned about his own mentality, but he had insisted he was alright and requested the join in the search. He had been permitted to do so, under the condition that he be stripped of the command of his squad should he no longer be able to handle the pressure.

The ultimatum was keeping him from flying off the handle; he wanted so badly to find his daughter that it hurt.

As he passed by what used to be a corridor, he recognized the remains of the tents that had been erected for the wounded. Course, it hadn't had to be used as much as it had in the beginning, but the staff had kept them erect in case of emergency. From one of the collapsed stone walls, he caught sight of a small hand, knowing that it had belonged to a child.

He took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He'd seen quite a few bodies since arriving at the ruined Garden, but this was the first child he'd found. Pulling the plaster off of the child's prone form, he saw that it was a dark haired girl. Her eyes were closed; as though she was sleeping, and she was dressed in casual clothing, much like the world outside of Esthar. The left side of her head had been bleeding; probably from where the wall had collapsed on her, and he couldn't help but check her pulse in the event she had somehow survived.

Surprise, surprise; she was dead, like all the rest.

"Found another one," Foray said and, given his tone of voice one would think he was unnerved by the ordeal. Inside, he was sickened by it.

But he had to maintain his calm if he wanted to maintain his position on the team.

They continued their search, while Foray hoped he would find some good news to this massacre.

Foray found that his thoughts – up until then focussed on his daughter – could not be distracted from the sight of the little girl.

* * *

Christine stared through the glass at her boyfriend's motionless body; burns and scars horribly marring his physique as the doctors treated him, watching as his chest rose and fell but not at the speed it normally should have. As soon as she'd heard he'd been found alive, she'd been overjoyed, but as soon as she saw the damages and injuries he'd sustained from the crash, she'd been restrained by the doctors.

He didn't know if James was going to make it. Hell, he didn't know if anyone knew. But there was no problem with hoping, and that's what he did.

Kiros frowned thoughtfully as he watched her at the glass window. James had been found underneath rubble and ruin of the plane, and another body had been found behind the pilot seat, burned and scarred beyond repair. He knew they would learn of the corpse's true identity as soon as the autopsy reports came up, but as it stood there were still two bodies missing. From what they knew, they could assume that the body was either the pilot or Cabinet representative Harold Schipner.

From what he'd been told, Christine had been prepared to prove Squall's innocence, only to have him confess to orchestrating the previous events. True, he didn't actually commit the murders, but he'd been a part of it.

"I hope James'll wake up in time to help with this investigation." Christine's voice broke through the silence. Kiros figured she'd known he'd arrived the moment he had.

"I hope he wakes up." Kiros stated. Christine nodded her head in response. "And even then it's not plausible for him to get back to work immediately. Deilia'll take care of things while he recovers."

"You should have seen him when they brought him in." Christine said blankly. Her gaze never left the window as she spoke. "It was… pretty bad. But I guess you're used to that kind of thing. You were a soldier, after all."

Kiros shrugged in reply, but said nothing. He didn't have to; he'd seen his fair share of injuries as a result of some failed raid or even an ambush. But with what he could see from where he was standing, he knew that James had gotten off lucky. Only his torso and arms seemed the worst; his legs had only been banged up and bruised – no broken bones whatsoever. Frostbite hadn't even set in by the time the rescue crew had arrived and that had been because of James' had the sense to call for back up.

He still didn't say anything though; he didn't want to upset Christine with those possibilities and the odds that would have come with them had they come to pass. She had enough on her plate as it was, but her work for the Cabinet seemed to have been forgotten the moment James had returned to Esthar. She was a dedicated and devoted woman; when it came to trust there was no doubt about it. It took something major to change her mind once it was made up.

Kiros respected that about her; had always respected the trait. He could even recall a time where he'd actually admired her as more than just a friend. Neither Ward nor Laguna had ever heard of this interest – despite their trusting friendships between each other, Kiros was a very private person and liked to keep most things to himself. Besides, he knew he'd never live it down if his good friends knew he'd actually had a crush on someone.

But after a while, he realized that it would have never worked out between them. She was more behind the desk type of person and preferred curling up by a fire place with a good book to read. He was more adventurous and had always been. Half the time Laguna hadn't even needed to try and get the darker skinned man to join in on their adventures; he was just as willing to go along with it.

He hadn't pursued it of course; it would have been unprofessional, and it would have made things extremely awkward afterwards. The only person who actually did know about it was James, and he hadn't mentioned it to a soul, despite the fact that he was currently dating her.

When he'd learned that James had liked Christine, he'd encouraged him to go for it; to take the plunge he had never done. James, while being in the line of work he was, was a lot tamer than Kiros would probably ever be, which was why he'd believed them to be perfect for each other. It hurt to see either of them in the position they were, and he knew now more than anything that they were pretty inseparable. Soon afterwards, he'd come to know Christine more as a sister than as a potential love interest.

More to the point, Kiros saw them both as siblings he had never had; never having had any familial contact before. Very rarely did he ever actually make any effort to forge such bonds and he trusted his instincts when it came to other people. He'd had a good feeling about both James and Christine from the get go, much like he'd had with Laguna and Ward, and it was because of it that reason he'd come to cherish anyone within his inner circle.

But now, his surrogate brother was badly hurt and the woman who loved James the most was hurting because of it. He wanted to make it better, but couldn't fathom how.

_If only I was one of those guys in those spy movies James likes,_ he thought to himself. _I could figure out where the terrorists were and what they were planning. Maybe even fit the pieces of this damned puzzle…_

Kiros stopped in mid-thought and realized he'd just crossed upon something. James' sunglasses were a sort of spy wear – while he used them for work it wasn't entirely mandatory. He'd seen them in a movie once and had insisted he get a custom copy made for himself. It was a useful tool, but Kiros also recalled that there was some kind of audio and visual function in the glasses. If James was ambushed by the terrorists on the way to Winter Island, there was a slim possibility he had the entire encounter recorded.

Christine finally turned away from the window, which jarred Kiros out of his thoughts. "What is it?" she asked uncertainly.

_As Laguna would say in this kind of situation,_ Kiros thought to himself as he grinned. _'Man, I'm such a genius'. _"I'm not a hundred percent sure about this, but, I think I may have a way to find out what went wrong on the plane."

"What is it?"

"When the medical team came back with him, what were James' clothes like?"

"Torn mostly." Christine answered in confusion after a moment's hesitation. "There were a couple of intact pieces, but otherwise they were in bad shape. Why?"

"Do you know where the med team put them?"

"In the closet down the hallway." Christine said. "What are you thinking, Kiros?"

"I need to get a hold of James' sunglasses." Kiros said. "Maybe he recorded the encounter."

Christine's expression lit up. "And maybe the terrorists let something slip about their plan."

"The only problem is…" Kiros started but Christine held up her hand to stop him.

"James doesn't have any family left to speak of. I'm the one the doctors would have to talk to about anything serious. You need permission to search through his things; you've got it. Now hurry up and meet me back at my office."

Kiros nodded before sprinting off, hoping that this was a turning point to the whole situation.

* * *

"We're nearly there." Nida said from behind the piloting controls.

Because of Selphie's reaction to Trabia Garden's destruction, she simply sat in one of the passenger seats, trying hard to keep the tears at bay. Irvine sat next to her, and she rested her head against his shoulder, despite the obvious differences in height.

"No one's said anything about what we're gonna do from here." Zell said, continuing their conversation. Cid nodded at Nida in acknowledgement. "It looks pretty bad from our end, but Garden's gotta be going ballistic over this."

"And Laguna was a wreck." Quistis pointed out. "How can he be expected to lead the country against his own son?"

"You think he'll step down?" Irvine asked, to which Quistis shook her head.

"As difficult as it may be, I doubt he will. It's not in the governments favour if Laguna steps down as the President. If anything it'll cause even more chaos. He overthrew Adel; the people still listen to him. People don't want to see a change of leadership during a crisis, even if it is personal."

"And even if he wanted to step down, no doubt the council wouldn't let him." Cid continued.

"Laguna is going to have his work cut out for him." Edea stated, who was sitting in the very back of the cockpit.

"But why would he go through the trouble of pretending he was innocent if he wasn't?" Zell asked.

"I'm not even entirely certain that this is true." Quistis admitted. "Squall's cold but not cold hearted. He might not get along with Laguna but he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize everyone else in the process."

"Squall works in a direct approach." Cid said. "The evidence of that is in his mission reviews. If he has an objective, he'll go after it."

Cid sighed heavily. "Still, there's no doubt about what he's doing. From his message he seemed to believe that there was no other alternative _but_ to go after the people."

"He did appear to be trying to gain everyone's attention." Edea said. "Though it's very unlike him, he might have felt no one would listen to him otherwise."

"But we listen!" Selphie said, raising her head. "We always did."

"He might not see it that way." Cid said. "We may have to face the fact that Squall has gone rogue, and has become the enemy. Even if we want it to be untrue, the facts don't lie and everyone on this planet heard first hand what he was willing to do should his demands be ignored."

The cockpit fell silent after Cid finished speaking and soon afterwards, the Ragnarok touched down on Balambi soil. The ramp leading to the hanger of the former flagship opened and allowed the passengers to disembark, Rinoa being carried on Irvine's back as they moved.

The trek to Balamb Garden – only a few minutes; the Ragnarok landed right beside the Garden – was as quiet as the remainder of their trip. They'd managed to pass through the front gate without much conversation, but as soon as they reached the turnstiles, they found both Xu and Commander Greenwood standing there to greet them.

"Headmaster." The Commander stated curtly. "Might I have a moment with you in private?"

"Conrad, if this is about what you need to speak to me about, feel free to say what you need to say in front of the others." Cid stated. "We've all had a rough day and they were there when you initially stated you would like a word with me."

"Very well." The Commander stated agitatedly. Taking in a deep breathe, he moved towards the Headmaster before standing so they were face to face. "I suppose they do deserve to know why I need to speak to you. Please, everyone come to my office."

Quistis exchanged glances with Selphie and Nida appeared confused by the remark. Irvine muttered something under his breath, and Zell just looked eager to get this meeting over with. Quistis didn't doubt that more bad news was to come – what with the way the Commander had addressed the Headmaster.

They rode the lift up to the third floor, where the Commander's and Headmaster's offices resided. As soon as they entered the large room that housed both offices and the bridge, the Commander paused just outside of his office, his expression grim as he began to address the group. Xu stood off to the right; oddly silent throughout the ordeal and it was then that Quistis understood that it wasn't just bad news. Something horrible was about to happen.

Judging by the expressions on everyone else's faces, save for the Headmaster, they were thinking the same thing.

"First things first." The Commander said. "I can gander a guess, but what exactly happened with Trabia Garden?"

"The terrorists who committed the murders in Esthar were the ones responsible for it." Cid explained. "One of them infiltrated the Missile Base and launched the missiles remotely. There wasn't much the Estharian government could do by the time we all discovered what had happened."

"I see…" the Commander stated evenly. He must have guessed that was what happened. "Any idea where the traitor is?"

"Nothing has surfaced from where the plane crashed in the Trabian region. He couldn't have gotten very far, given the time frame of the recording."

"Unfortunate." Conrad said and Quistis frowned. Was it her imagination, or did Conrad appear to be enjoying this.

"So what is it that you need to speak to me about?" Cid asked, changing the subject entirely.

"At approximately 0130 this morning, SeeD operative Xu located some suspicious activity within the Garden. Upon discovering the breach, she sent teams in order to apprehend the intruder, and at 0143, the intruder was apprehended." Commander Greenwood explained. Zell and Irvine exchanged puzzled glances and Quistis' expression hardened at the thought of an intruder. "We've tried interrogating him for his reasons as to his presence within the Garden, but the only thing he told us was that _you_ gave him permission to enter the Garden."

"Who was the intruder?" Cid asked, apparently ignoring the looks he was receiving from everyone around him.

The Commander nodded and opened the door to his office, gesturing for them all to enter. However, he only made it barely past the threshold when he stopped, a scowl gracing his features as he took in the office.

Apart from a desk positioned in front of a set of windows, a bookshelf sectioned off to the side wall, a monitor on the opposite wall and a few chairs, the office was practically bare. The normally paper-clad desk was clear, but not vacant, as a man who couldn't have been older than twenty sat in the revolving chair, his feet propped up on the wooden surface. His hands were clasped behind his hooded head, and he appeared to have been bored until they suddenly arrived.

Upon seeing the other man, Zell lunged forward, intending to attack the man but was held back by Nida and Edea. Quistis' eyes narrowed dangerously as she recognized who it was and Selphie simply exchanged confused glances with Irvine. The intruder looked different from the wars – Quistis told herself it was because of the hooded sweat shirt and the lack of the trench coat – but nevertheless she recognized him from the drop of a hat.

"You gutter munching sonovabitch!" Zell shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Now, now, Chickenwuss." Seifer Almasy said, waving a figure tauntingly in his direction. "Does your mother know you kiss her with that mouth?"

Zell attempted to lunge at him again, screaming and cursing at the top of his lungs. Seifer simply barked out a laugh, but he removed himself from his position at the desk. He withdrew the hood, revealing his customary short blonde hair, and the scar Squall had given him during their training session was as noticeable as the day he had first received it. "Don't need that anymore." He muttered as he removed the sweater, revealing that he wore his customary blue muscle shirt with a white cross underneath. There was some kind of harness attached to his back, with the Hyperion held sturdy within.

"You have some nerve coming back here." Quistis remarked and Seifer simply shrugged.

"Don't worry; I didn't have any intention of ever returning, _Instructor_." Seifer sneered, and Quistis clenched her fists in response. "If it wasn't for your Headmaster, I'd still be at home and none of you would have been the wiser to my location."

At this, everyone turned to stare at the Headmaster, who simply kept his gaze even with Seifer. "It's nice to see you're alright, Seifer."

"Yeah, but some reception," Seifer shook his head. "If this were a hotel, I'd want my money back for the way I've been treated here."

"So it's true." Xu asked, speaking for the first time since they had come back. Her voice was hollow with shock. "You really did invite him back here."

When Cid simply nodded back, Quistis thought he'd finally lost it. The one person who had tried to kill them all four months ago was strutting around the Garden as though he owned the place.

"But…why?" Quistis asked, sounding disgusted with the decision.

"Because I believed he deserved a chance." Cid explained. "Seifer was a student here when Ultimecia brought him into her ranks. He was being manipulated by her powers. Not all of what he had done were actions done by his own accord. Even if he was a troublemaker, his actions during the war were not his fault."

"Hey, I'm standing right here." Seifer snapped indignantly.

"Nevertheless, I feel he deserves a second chance."

"He's a war criminal!" The Commander said in outrage. "He tried to kill the previous Commander and the rest of SeeD during the war and you believe he deserves another chance? With all due respect, he deserves to be lynched for what he's done."

"I repeat my last statement." Seifer folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

"You simply thought you could sneak him in here and not have to face the consequences?" The Commander was seething in anger by this point.

"On the contrary." Cid stated simply. "I intend to face the consequences of my actions. I knew if I were to bring the idea to you, Conrad, you would have vetoed it immediately. I honestly felt, and still feel, that Seifer deserved a second chance—"

"According to his file, he's received many 'second chances' in the past." The Commander snapped back.

"Aw… you've been studying." Seifer said mockingly.

"You shut your mouth." The Commander snapped at Seifer before whirling on the Headmaster. "So despite that you believe what you have done was right, you're still willing to face the consequences?"

"I am always willing deal with the consequences of my actions, Conrad." Cid stated simply.

One look at the Commander and Quistis knew that he was about ready to blow his top. She didn't think she could blame him; the Headmaster had deliberately gone behind his back to bring Seifer back to the Garden without notifying anyone, and when asked for his reasons he said it was because no one would have gone along with it.

The Garden Commander took a moment to calm himself – a feat Quistis didn't think he could have managed given the circumstance – before turning his attention back to the Headmaster. It was almost if the rest of them weren't standing there when he finally spoke. "I would normally have a probationary punishment for you, Headmaster, but as it stands you breeched security and have endangered the entire populace of this Garden with your actions. Thus, I am _ordering_ you to step down from your position as the Balamb Garden Headmaster, effective immediately."

Silence filled the room for a moment and Quistis found herself speechless. Zell's jaw was hanging open and he looked around, almost as though he wanted someone to object. Irvine, Selphie and Nida looked shocked and Edea appeared beside herself, staring at her husband uncertainly. Quistis couldn't very well blame them.

She wanted to protest; almost did, except she found that her voice was caught in her throat and she couldn't bring her thoughts to words. She turned a glare towards Seifer, who just stood where he was as if he'd expected the course of action to take place. He seemed completely and utterly unaffected by the fact that he had cost the Headmaster – his surrogate father – his position within the Garden.

The Commander appeared saddened now that the words had left him, but the Headmaster didn't appear to be affected by any of this. He looked almost as apathetic about it as Seifer. "That sounds like a fair punishment." Cid stated and Quistis whirled on him. How exactly was that fair?

Her incredulous expression went ignored. "I will concede to this under one condition; that Seifer remains in the Garden as a student. Under no circumstances is anyone within the Garden to treat him as though he is a criminal."

This time, even Seifer appeared to have been floored by this new ultimatum and Zell looked as though he was going to lose it. "Are you serious?" Quistis asked, but she didn't expect an answer – the Headmaster was staring intently at the Commander, who looked like he'd rather have a hole in his head than readmit Seifer into the Garden.

Quistis agreed with him wholeheartedly; she had been Seifer's Instructor – who else knew better than her what he was capable of. Still, the Headmaster spoke up once again, filling the room with his voice though he needn't try so hard. "I was the one who convinced Seifer to return. His being here and intruding into the Garden was not his fault by any right; he is absolutely right; he had absolutely no intention of returning to the Garden after everything he has done – but, I was stubborn and pressed him to do just that. I don't regret that decision and it's in the past anyway. But in no way, shape or form, should he be punished for being persuaded by a man who only wanted to see him earn the opportunity to redeem himself."

Quistis sighed, watching the Commander's features and wondering just what it was he was going to do. The Headmaster did bring up a good point; if Seifer hadn't originally wanted to come back after the wars, then there really was no reason to punish him for it. At the same time, he was caught trespassing and should have been turfed out by now. She suspected the Commander had waited in order to confront the headmaster and to validate Seifer's excuse for being there in the first place.

The Commander appeared to feel the same way, but after a moment of silence, Commander Greenwood sighed in defeat. "Alright, he can stay. I can't guarantee that everyone will treat him civilly though, but he must adhere to the rules."

"I am certain Seifer will follow the Garden rules to the letter." Cid said, though Seifer was staring at him as though he had gone insane.

"He had better." The Commander said. "Because if he breaks even one regulation, I cannot guarantee him a place here."

"I understand completely." Cid stated. "I will gather my belongings and return to my home in Centra with my wife."

Quistis took one look at Edea and knew that their Matron had ever intention of grilling the Headmaster for information as soon as they were homebound. Quistis couldn't blame her; she'd like to know the reason behind the Headmaster's actions as well.

"Though I would like to remain behind to speak to Seifer privately."

"Whatever for?" the Commander asked, though he appeared exasperated over the whole thing.

"I just wish to give him some fatherly advice." Cid shrugged. "Aren't I allowed that much?"

"I suppose that it wouldn't hurt if I allowed it." The Commander said, though he sounded reluctant. "Only a few minutes though. There's still the matter of his sneaking around after hours."

"Seifer was given specific instructions not to be seen by anyone until I gave him permission." The Headmaster said, though Quistis thought for a moment that he was lying. "Obviously he didn't have a room of his own, so that left him the Training Center to camp out in. I hope that's sufficient reasoning."

The Commander didn't appear all that convinced, but he also didn't appear to want to argue about it any further. "It's fine. For now."

"Well then. When I'm done, I'll begin packing and you can expect my letter of resignation faxed to you within the next hour."

The headmaster moved to the door, everyone else moving out of the way, even as the elder man gestured for the former cadet to follow.  
"I am sorry things had to be this way." Commander Greenwood stated and the Headmaster paused in his stride. "But I cannot overlook this action."

"I am very sorry as well." Cid said after a moment as he left the Commander's office, Edea following closely behind her husband and Seifer not too far afterwards.

* * *

**11:45:58**

* * *

It hadn't taken him long at all to get himself fixed up and ready. After eating – he hadn't actually believed the old woman to be serious about feeding him – he'd quickly gotten changed into a pair of clothing they loaned him – a black undershirt and a white t-shirt overtop of it with a brown vest, and a pair of brown jeans underneath black snow pants.

The running shoes he'd been issued by the Estharian prison were replaced by a pair of worn looking snow boots that had been surprisingly warm against the cold. A black toque covered the majority of his hair and a pair of snow goggles most of his face from view. A pair of leather gloves that looked useless against the cold but were surprisingly handy fit each hand snugly and he wore a red winter jacket over it all that came to his waist.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Edna Harper, had looked him over before announcing her disapproval of his leaving, but he'd stood by what he had said before; he couldn't afford to sit around and wait for the terrorists to come to him. However, she'd given him a small carrying bag filled some a couple of jars and told him that she felt he would need the herbs. Her husband Edward had told him not to argue; apparently she had some kind of sixth sense that told her a lot about times like these.

When he was ready to disembark, they'd climbed into a four-seater truck and, after Edward started the ignition, they had set off towards the port town of Nighbelle.

It hadn't taken then very long to reach the town – or maybe he'd lost himself to his thoughts once again – but when the vehicle started to slow he realized they'd arrived. The town was fairly small – sort of like Balamb, only it had a lot more snow. The ground was filled with the frozen element; the snow having been trampled into wet slush as cars and bikes had moved atop it.

The truck pulled into the driveway of a convenience market and Squall let himself out the back passenger door, closing the door firmly behind him. The bag with the medicinal herbs was strung around his shoulder, the bag resting along his right side. He nodded in thanks as the truck backed out of the parking lot and drove off, probably heading back to the elderly couple's self-induced seclusion.

Squall had waited until they were out of sight before continuing on.

After a few minutes of walking, he'd managed to figure the town was pretty easy to navigate. He'd managed to locate a place where they sold maps and managed to take one without anyone around him being the wiser. His wallet and personal effects were back in Esthar, so he couldn't very well pay for the damned object.

After ducking into an alleyway and keeping out of sight, he'd managed to memorize the map, and concluded that the only way he would be able to get out of the country was by boat. It wasn't a prospect he liked, but it was the best he could do; he'd be in another country given a few hours time, depending on how far away the country was. He guessed that his best bet was Dollet; it was the closest to his present location and it would still give him enough time to come up with a plan; as things were, he was making it up as he went along. He needed a game plan; he wasn't Laguna after all.

Even as he set himself a course to the port, he couldn't help but wonder how everyone else was planning to do, given the knowledge (however false it may have been) that he was a terrorist. Obviously everyone in the world had seen the broadcast; if a secluded elderly couple could see it, then large cities like Esthar or Deling would have as well.

What he couldn't understand, however, was why make the world believe him to be a terrorist? A lot of the time, a terrorist act was accomplished for the sheer attention aside from the knowledge that they were causing fear. Pinning the actions onto him wouldn't give them the attention they would normally want.

Unless it wasn't attention they were after; at least not at the moment. It would make sense if they wanted to limit his movements; they were looking to capture him after all. If everyone thought he was a terrorist, no one would be willing to help him out.

He felt exposed without the Guardian Forces humming around inside of his head, but he knew he would have to compensate for their absence. SeeDs were far more resourceful than the world thought and if the terrorists believed that he'd be helpless without his junctions then Squall would just have to prove them wrong.

As he turned down the appropriate side street, he couldn't help but get the feeling he was being followed. He frowned slightly before picking up the pace, hoping to shake whoever it was from his trail. No one should be able to recognize him – he was wearing the snow goggles after all – but after a few more minutes of walking around he realized someone had recognized him.

He cursed under his breath before moving into a slow jog, moving further down the side street before turning into a town square. There didn't appear to be very many people out; from the overhead sky Squall knew that it was late, but there was still enough people around to warrant caution; the last thing he wanted to do was cause anyone else to recognize him.

Finally, he stopped, knowing that a confrontation was inevitable, and turned around, only to find that there wasn't anyone behind him. Frowning in confusion, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the magic in his mind before he found the appropriate spell and cast it. He slowly opened them, unsurprised that his surroundings and changed to black and white. As he looked around, he spotted an energy signature hiding behind one of the surrounding buildings, but just before he could investigate, something jumped him from behind and wrapped their arms around his neck.

Squall instinctively pulled his hands up to detach his attacker, but found that the person's grip was pretty tight and was growing tighter by the second. The SeeD instantly recognized the act as an attempted Sleeper Hold – they were trying to knock him out.

Even as Squall struggled to shrug his attacker off, he realized to his dismay that it was working; it was quickly beginning to get light headed from the lack of oxygen. Determined not to allow himself to fall unconscious, Squall released his grip on his attacker's arm, allowing him to believe he was succumbing to the attack, only to jam his elbow into the attacker's solar plexus.

The man – Squall could tell from the voice – gasped in pain and shock before completely releasing the SeeD, the teenager falling flat on his face into the snow. He managed to pull himself back up and turned to see the man – dressed in dark colours – griddling his abdomen. The assailant looked up long enough to see the SeeD chop him along the neck before he fell unconscious, the SeeD catching the man before allowing him to fall into the snow.

A moment later, he heard something from behind and darted out of the way as gunfire sprayed out, hitting the fountain in the center of the square. Squall ducked behind a building as the gunfire continued, before throwing out a thunder spell, the magic charging through the gunman before the air grew silent again.

After a moment of checking his surroundings, Squall slowly crept out of his hiding spot, and prepared to continue on his way when he heard a shrill laugh from nearby. He ducked back around, frowning as he recognized the sound.

And he was correct; two children – the eldest couldn't have been any older than ten from what he could tell – were running into the town square; probably having broken curfew and snuck outside to play. Squall's frowned deepened; if there were people after him there, he doubted they had any restraint from using the children as bait.

Both children ran along the side of the fountain, laughing and grabbing at snow with mitten-glad hands. Squall kept an eye out for any activity nearby and sure enough he heard it; more gunshots sounded from south of his position and he watched the children scream and run for it. Squall made a move to attack, but was forced back into his hiding spot as gunfire shot out towards him, puncturing a metal support that held some kind of advertisement bulletin. The support snapped soon afterwards and the younger of the two – a little girl with red pig tails – screamed as she covered her head with her arms.

Squall realized that, if he didn't do anything, the little girl would be killed, so he quickly ran out, the bullets blasting bits of ice and snow up to hit along his snow pants. A couple of bullets nearly hit him, but he was faster and moved out of their trajectory. Realizing that he wouldn't make it in time, he dove, grabbed the girl and rolled out from under the bulletin, even as it slammed into the ground with a loud 'bang'.

The SeeD landed into a hasty crouch, and checked the girl over. She was alright, if a little shaken. She was staring at him at awe, but before she could get a word in, the gunfire resumed – they must have been reloading – and Squall was forced to get her and himself to safety. He ducked behind a building, allowing the little girl to stand of her own power, even when he asked if she was alright. The girl nodded her head, apparently too scared for words. She clasped both hands together under her chin and Squall could make out something thin and pink from her hands.

The gun fire continued for another minute before the sound stopped and Squall poked his head from around the corner to see if he could pinpoint the enemy. He couldn't.

Cursing mentally, he tried to come up with a way to get away from the area without endangering the two kids. There had to be something he could do.

He heard a shout from further away, and the little girl looked up in shock as she headed towards the corner. "That's Billy!" she shouted.

"Stay back!" Squall shouted, pulling her away from the corner. Fortunately no gunfire sounded, but Squall wasn't too concerned about that for a moment.

"But I have to save Billy!"

"It's too dangerous," he argued, and couldn't help but feel stupid for arguing with a little kid.

Before the little girl could protest, he heard someone speaking in a thick Trabian accent. No doubt his attackers were natives. "Surrender peacefully, SeeD, and we will spare this boy!"

Squall chanced a glance around the corner and had to bite back another curse. He could make out two people dressed in Trabian snow gear, one of which was holding a young boy in a blue snow cap and a pair of blue winter pants with a matching jacket. Since he'd been forced to blink after being grabbed from behind, he couldn't see anymore than that, though he doubted it was just the pair of them.

Leaning against the wall, Squall sighed. This wasn't exactly how he'd intended for things to go. The little girl beside him looked downright terrified; who could blame her?

Just when Squall was running through his options, he looked at the item she held in her hands more closely, realizing that it was a long pink skipping rope. The handles were white, and more than enough for a weapon, even if it was a makeshift.

He would have rathered something else, but that wasn't an option. Crouching down in front of the little girl, he tried not to appear as intimidating as he probably appeared to be. It seemed to work though; the girl simply stared at him. "Can I borrow that?" he asked.

The little girl appeared not to know what he was talking about but after a moment, she looked down and seemed to remember that she was holding onto her jump rope. She stared at him critically, as if wondering if she should give it to him. Squall sighed, knowing that he had to be patient. "I'll bring it back when I'm done with it."

"You promise?" the girl asked in a suspicious tone. It sounded as though she'd loaned her stuff away but never got it back in the past.

Squall didn't know if that was going to be possible, but he figured he could at least try. He nodded in response to her question and she held out the object for him to take. Examining it, he didn't know if it was going to do him any good against their weapons, but it was the best option. It was either that, or go out bare fisted.

Squall had never really trained with a whip before; he only knew a couple of basic manoeuvres from weapons training. When Quistis fought with Save the Queen in battle, it looked easy enough, but he doubted that it was. He wasn't actually going to fight the enemy; he just needed to get the boy out of the way so that he could lure them away from the kids.

He snapped the object into the air like he'd seen Quistis do before entering battle, and it made a sharp cracking sound. He just hoped it'd be enough to do the job. "Don't try this at home." He said in passing.

He caught the girl nodding her head vigorously before he jumped out into the open, ducking behind the fountain as the gunfire sounded once again. He watched the girl duck back behind the building and hoped she would stay out of harms way before turning his attention to the rope.

About a month after the Sorceress War, Irvine had thought it'd be a great idea to go Chocobo Ranching, and had persuaded the SeeD to tag along with him – he'd just returned from a mission and wasn't scheduled out for another few days. In the end, Squall had only gone with him to shut him up, though he had to admit he'd had a bit of fun. Irvine'd taught him a couple of things about lassoing a Chocobo, and they'd even tried rounding up a bull. He and Irvine still had the bruises from that attempt.

Still, he retained the information he had thought, at the time, to be useless, and figured that it was about time it'd come in handy. He grabbed one end of the rope and tied it loosely around the middle, but not too loosely as to come undone before it hit the appropriate target. Satisfied with his work, he began to crawl around the fountain and waited for the gunshots to stop before jumping up onto the fountain's ledge, swinging the rope around as he attempted to gain momentum. "I'm over here!" he shouted, as if to drive the point home. "Let him go; it's me you're after."

"He's insurance," one of his attackers snapped.

Squall frowned in response. "That's not an option."

"You gonna do something about it?" the other one asked and Squall sure as hell did. The momentum he'd gained was adequate enough for him to toss the make-shift lasso out, and snare the man by the arm. He pulled sharply, and the man fell hard onto the snow filled ground just in front of the fountain. The SeeD shifted the rope, the man's arm becoming freed by the action.

The remaining visual attacker raised his weapon to him and Squall brought his arm back before shouting, "Duck!" at the boy.

The child did as told and, as a result, barely missed being it in the head by the end of the rope. The man, however, wasn't so lucky and took the hit to the stomach. The plastic end of the skipping rope wasn't much of a weapon, but coming at someone at rapid speed tended to sting. When the man jumped back in order to examine the damage, Squall ducked down and hit him with the base of his palm under the chin, knocking him up slightly. The man landed backwards into the snow, groaned once before falling still.

Squall wrung out his hand quickly before gesturing for the kid to get out of the way before he turned back around, restructuring the lasso he'd had a moment ago before swinging it out in front of him and catching the first assailant by the leg. He tugged – hard, and the man fell back onto his neck before falling still. When Squall went to check on him, he noted that the man was still conscious, but he could guess that his neck had snapped as a result. It was a miracle he was still alive, though for how long was anyone's guess.

Rising out of his crouch, he was surprised to see both kids running up to him, the boy's mouth hanging open in awe as the little girl stared at him in shock. After a moment, the little girl turned on the older boy. "And _you_ said that jump ropes were sissy toys."

Squall rolled his eyes at the retort and handed the object back to the little girl before addressing the both of them. "There are more of those guys out there. Get back home, lock the doors and call the police. They should be here soon enough."

Both kids nodded, but before they could go, Squall heard something from behind. He turned back around and after a moment, gun shot sounded and he jumped into action, keeping the kids behind him and conjuring up a protect spell. Bullets ricocheted off the shield, even as he shouted at the kids to make a run for it. They didn't need to be told twice, and ran back the way they'd come.

* * *

As soon as they'd reached the Headmaster's office, Cid had locked the door behind himself and his wife, even as Seifer leaned against the elder male's desk. "So… whaddya wanna talk about?" the former cadet asked.

"First of all, what is going on?" Edea asked. "You didn't seem at all phased by what just happened there; you looked like you expected it to happen."

"I did, Edea, but I don't have very much time to explain. I promise you though; I will tell you everything as soon as we're on our way. But we can't talk here for too much longer; it's too dangerous to do that."

Edea frowned, folding her arms across her chest before sighing and sitting back into one of the chairs that decorated the Headmaster's office. Cid took that as an agreement before addressing Seifer's question. "I take it that you know of the situation."

"'Course." Seifer shrugged. "I make it my business to know what's going on. I told you this already."

"So you know what happened in Esthar." Cid asked.

Seifer paused for a moment and nodded shortly afterwards. "Plane crashed in Trabia. According to the reports, someone survived, but they're not saying who, but they did announce that Puberty Boy was in on it."

Cid chose to ignore the name calling. After all, there were more important things at stake here than Seifer's overzealous nicknaming. "The survivor is the Chief of Security in the Estharian Residence, James Logans. No word has come out whether or not he's going to pull through, but so far he's the only one who knows what happened on that plane. The Cabinet Member, Harold Schipner, and the pilot are unaccounted for, though they did find a body in the wreckage. And, we all know what happened to Squall."

Cid expected Seifer to agree with him; however, instead the blonde simply raised an eyebrow. "You believe he's guilty."

"It is evident." Cid said with a heavy sigh before moving to sit beside his wife. "Not to mention inevitable. SeeD… I… put far too much pressure on him and expected him to be able to pull through it all with a clear head. Obviously I was very wrong. If anything, this entire situation is entirely my fault."

"Oh don't go blaming yourself for that bullcrap." Seifer snapped, surprising the former Headmaster. Edea's eyes narrowed at the language, but Seifer didn't care; he very rarely ever did. "Wasn't it SeeD that taught you to look underneath the underneath?"

Cid stared at him, wondering where he was getting at. "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Seifer sneered. "Puberty Boy's being set up, just like he was earlier today. He doesn't have the balls to blow up an entire Garden, let alone in front of the whole world to see. That's more my style, wouldn't you agree?"

"You did train with him." Cid offered.

"Bull." Seifer snapped. "If he was capable of anything that's happened to day, do you think he woulda made SeeD? I doubt it."

"Alright." Cid conceded. "Why do you believe he's innocent? And 'Because I said so' isn't an answer."

"Cid is right, Seifer." Edea added. "We saw him admit to it."

"First of all, where the hell would he have come up with the time to plan this whole thing?" Seifer asked. "He was as busy as everyone else in this Hyne-damned place."

"It's still possible." Cid argued.

"Secondly," Seifer said, ignoring the rebuttal. "The way he held himself; the way he spoke, the whole thing sounded staged. It wasn't anything like him at all; if he was serious, he'd have acted the way he normally does when he doesn't give a shit."

"But a lot of things did hit home." Edea said. "For instance, everyone is listening for once? How many times had he told everyone he didn't want to be in command, only to be forced into it anyway?"

"Point taken," Seifer conceded. "But the third, and most important reason, is the scar." Seifer pointed to his own to show emphasis. "You got a copy of that video feed?"

"The Commander should have kept a copy to study." Cid said as he got up from where he sat. He manoeuvred around his desk and the former cadet before sitting in his chair and typing on the keyboard. After a moment, Cid nodded to himself. "He did."

"Well, guess he's gotta account for somethin'," Seifer muttered before turning the monitor around. Cid was forced to return to his previous seating position beside Edea. "Check this out."

The blonde boy pressed a button on the keyboard, playing back the message before he abruptly paused it once more at a close up visage of the SeeD the world was preparing to hunt down. "Look at his face and you tell me that it's him."

Cid got back up and strode towards the computer screen, examining it as best he could, adjusting his glasses as he did. After a moment, he sighed. "Seifer, I don't see a different."

Seifer sighed in exasperation. "The scar! Look at the bloody scar!"

Cid sighed and tried again, but was amazed when he caught a slight difference. At first, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but when he examined the picture again, he realized he hadn't. He gestured for Edea to join him and after a moment, she gasped in shock. "You're right."

Seifer nodded in triumph. "Different blades give off different slash marks; it's a well known fact. No one blade and duplicate that of another. To drive the point home, the Hyperion is a special sword – I say that because I built it myself."

Cid was well aware of this fact; he had wanted to train using a gunblade, but hadn't liked the heaviness of the weapon. So instead, he'd managed to scrounge up an old sword and brought it to the Balambi weapons shop in order to create a lighter kind of weapon. Of course, others had tried but after a few months, Seifer had received the Hyperion, a one of a kind gunblade.

Thinking back made him realize exactly what it was Seifer was trying to say. "And since it's one of a kind, there would be no real way anyone would be able to duplicate the scar, unless they managed to get a hold of the weapon."

"And since I've been MIA ever since the end of the war," Seifer concluded. "they had to improvise. And they did a shoddy job too. Was able to catch on right away."

"Of course you would; you would know the slash of your blade better than anyone else." Edea commented. "This is the proof we need to prove Squall's innocence."

"Except Cid here botched it." Seifer snapped. "You just had to go and promise you're resignation, didn't you? And because there were witnesses, you can't go back on that."

"And considering the reasons behind your impeachment," Edea continued. "You can't argue against the breach because it was a real violation."

"Even if this whole thing blows over, you can't come back." Seifer sighed.

"That's alright," Cid stated. "The Garden would grow suspicious if I suddenly refused to tender my resignation. We'll have to play things by ear and hope you find something concrete while you're here. The slash mark itself, while feasible, is at best, speculation."

"Guess we can't do anything about it then." Seifer said, but despite looking put off by this news, he simply folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Now, d'ya wanna hear _my_ report?"

* * *

As soon as he knew they were out of the line of fire, Squall ducked back behind the fountain and threw a couple of thunder spells ahead. One hit – he heard the victim cry out in surprise – but he figured the other missed. When the gunfire ceased, he got up and bolted down the street in the opposite direction the kids took, and from the sound of footfalls from behind, he could tell they were pursuing.

Running down another street corner, he was forced to duck behind a car, calling out to the elderly man who was approaching the vehicle as he did, and the object took the brunt of the bullet attack. The elder man screamed in fear as he ran back into the adjacent house, probably to call the police. Squall frowned thoughtfully, knowing that he couldn't wait for the enemy to run out of bullets; he doubted any of the boats – should there be any disembarking – would wait that long.

He searched the immediate area for a weapon and frowned deeper when he came up with nothing, even as the weapon fire increased. The hubcaps holding the tires in were drilled tightly; without junctions it'd be useless to even attempt to pry them out. The window wipers were easier to pry out, but less effective to use as a weapon.

_I think I'd rather the skip rope,_ Squall thought to himself blandly before he saw a bike nearby. He dropped to all fours and crawled towards it, wondering if he could use it other than securing his escape. The bicycle chain that made the object operational could come in handy, but again, he needed something to use to escape the terrorists quickly. He'd have to keep it.

But the chain keeping the bike in place along the metal pole could prove useful.

He examined the lock keeping the bike stationary for a moment before extending both index and middle finger of his left hand and concentrating through the bottom of the lock, electrical energy radiating from the tips of his fingers. He heard the gunfire stop and assumed the enemy was planning to converge on him – they must've realized he'd moved from his crouching behind the car.

Still, he focussed his concentration on the bottom of the lock, sending a charge of electric energy through it that caused the lock to shatter. Quickly, he unwound the chain from around the pole, causing the bike to fall onto the snow beneath it, and ducked behind a nearby van, the gunfire taking up again.

Casting another protect spell just in case the original wore off, Squall jumped atop the hood of the van and crawled onto the roof, snapping the chain into the air as he had done with the skipping rope. The enemy – approximately six men – stared at him wearily – they must have witnessed the fight he'd had with the other two – before charging forward.

One of the men lashed out with his weapon – a submachine gun – hoping to take out the SeeDs legs. Squall jumped up into the air before positioning his body forward, landing a kick to the guy's chest and knocking him into one of his comrades. Without pausing in his stride, he landed into a crouch and lashed out with the chain, hitting the guy to his left in the leg. Squall heard the resounding pop, and knew he'd taken out the guy's kneecap, even before he'd begun screaming.

Yep, the chain was definitely a better weapon.

Squall rolled forward, throwing his foot out and hitting the screaming assailant in the face with his leg, knocking him backwards into the snow and had the mindset to flip himself up using the momentum built up in his legs, kicking a forth man back as he landed upright. The fifth guy grabbed him from behind, but Squall grabbed him and managed to toss him in front of him before he could execute a sleeper hold. He would be damned if he was going down without a fight.

He flipped himself backwards and landed behind the sixth assailant, wrapping the chain around the man's neck and applying pressure until he fell limp in front of him. As he released him, Squall figured that was the last of them until he felt something collide with the back of his head and knock him flat onto his stomach. Looking over his shoulder he realized he must have underestimated the number of fighters – there were two more standing behind him.

His head swam for a moment before Squall shook it off, rolling out of the way of another attack from the steel pipe the man was using. Squall used his close proximity in order to scissor his legs around the assailant's and knock him to the ground, grabbing a hold of the steel pipe before he could. He flipped himself back up again and, using the chain as a kind of whip, managed to wrap it around the eighth man's wrist by sheer fluke. He wasn't complaining though and used his upper-body strength in order to fling him into the back of the van, setting off an alarm as the assailant broke a tail light.

Deciding that it was now time to go, he managed to force himself to move towards the fallen bike, pick it up and ride away from the scene before the owners of the van and bicycle could note the theft.

* * *

**_12:00:00 _**


	11. Hour 11

**06/10/2007:** _Good news is I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth. I've merely been busy with my life. For instance, I only work one job now, so that means more time. On top of that though, it means I no longer have an excuses as to shirk a lot of the responsibilities that I was shirking originally. Also, I fully intend on taking night courses on Creative Writing, so that's also going to be taking up some of my time. _

_I'm really sorry that this chapter is shorter than the rest of them, but there was so little I could add in this chapter in comparison. It's more of a transition chapter, but obviously stuff happens in it. You'll just have to wait and see what said stuff is. Hopefully the next chapter won't take nearly as long for me to post. In the meantime, enjoy._

_Also, if there are any typos or mistakes, please forgive me; it's almost 3:30 in the morning over here. Just send me a private message or email me (my email is in my profile) them. I'll gladly change them._

* * *

**_The following takes place between 12pm and 1pm.  
Events occur in real time._**

* * *

The headmaster, or former headmaster as it were, emerged from his office a few minutes later, with Edea walking closely behind. Without an appearance of hesitation, he strode passed the teenagers waiting in the reception hall, and passed through the double doors, heading straight towards the elevator. Neither husband nor wife spoke as they left.

Seifer hadn't been too far behind the headmaster until they'd moved passed the teenager, where he'd stopped to watch them leave. His expression was carefully neutral, so Quistis couldn't figure out what he was thinking, let alone his motives. What had he been doing in the Garden in the first place? And why would the headmaster have seemingly begged the former cadet into coming all this way from wherever it was he'd been hiding? Nothing seemed made sense anymore; what with Squall's supposed betrayal and all.

She was just glad Rinoa wasn't awake to hear any of this.

Irvine had volunteered to bring Rinoa to the infirmary shortly after their meeting with the Commander, who had stayed in order to watch the Headmaster leave. Now, apparently satisfied, Commander Greenwood returned to his office, closing the door carefully behind him.

With her superior no longer standing nearby, Quistis felt her blood boil with white-hot anger. It was an accomplishment that her skin wasn't sizzling with it. Judging from his facial expression, she knew that Zell was having a difficult time struggling with his own emotions. Nida himself appeared to want to stay out of the ordeal and excused himself quickly enough. Selphie, still shell-shocked by Trabia's destruction, just stared blankly at the former cadet.

Once the Headmaster was out of sight, Seifer moved to leave, however Quistis strode in front of him, blocking his path. "Happy now?"

"Not really," Seifer said evenly. "But then again, you wouldn't really give a shit either way."

"Show some damned respect!" Zell snapped, diverting the elder boy's attention. "It's you're fault he lost his job."

"He knew the consequences of getting me here." Seifer said. "He was prepared; he said so himself. It's more or less _both_ our faults. But that's not important."

Zell squawked and Quistis blocked his path completely. "Of course it's important! Without the Headmaster, Garden wouldn't have even existed! It would've been some idea that Matron came up with on a whim one day! Ultimecia would have destroyed us and there wouldn't have been anything we could've done about it. Or have you conveniently forgotten about that?"

"Well, what's done is done and we can't do shit all about it, now can we?" Seifer snapped.

"Why don't you go back to whatever it was you were doing before you got caught?" Zell said. "And leave us the fuck alone."

"Wait," Selphie piped up for the first time since returning to the Garden. "What _were_ you doing here anyway?"

"At least someone shows some kind of intelligence." Seifer snapped, glaring at both Quistis and Zell. "My outlook on the Messenger Girl just rose a decimal."

"Gee, thanks." Selphie said without enthusiasm.

"Why did the Headmaster ask you here?" Quistis asked at great length.

Seifer grinned in response, and Quistis wasn't overly sure she liked it. "Exactly the question I was waiting for. But we can't talk here."

"Why the hell not?" Zell snapped.

"Too many ears." Seifer responded and Quistis frowned. It wasn't like Seifer to be paranoid; he was too full of himself for that kind of thought pattern. "We need to find a place to talk where we can't be overheard."

"Just us?" Selphie asked.

"Unfortunately, we've gotta wait for the Cow dung." Seifer said, and Selphie frowned in response. "We could use Rinoa too, but from the looks of it I take it she's not doing so well."

Quistis didn't give him the privilege of having a response to the unvoiced question. From the looks of it, Selphie and Zell weren't going to either. "I know somewhere we can talk without unwanted ears." Quistis said finally. "But it better be damned important."

"Oh believe you me…" Seifer said. "If you think _this_ is bad, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

* * *

Hector Nawl snapped his cellphone shut and frowned intensely, even as the others around him waited for a response. He'd just informed the higher ups of the current situation and had received strict orders not to allow the target to escape the country. Having already sighted him, they couldn't afford to lose him.

His frown deepened; the final phase of their plan was waiting for some punk to get himself captured.

From what he'd heard, Squall Leonhart was an exceptionally dangerous individual and, left to his own devices, he could very well ruin everything if he just so happened to return to Esthar. Hector doubted that was the SeeD's intention, but stranger things had happened.

"Search the entire town." Hector snapped his orders around the gum he was chewing. Nevertheless his men understood. "Find him before he manages to escape."

When his team had caught up with Squad D, he'd been surprised to find them all unconscious and a single tire track – it looked like it came from a bicycle of some sort – leading away from the scene. Upon hearing about a bicycle theft, his men had followed the tracks; their intelligence showed that Leonhart wasn't above taking something that wasn't his in order to ensure his escape or to defend himself.

Still, he had to admit – he found the whole theft kind of humorous; the SeeD hadn't even left the chain lock behind.

They'd followed the tracks to edge of town; where the docks were located, but all they'd found for their efforts was the stolen bike, lying abandoned in the snow. The chain lock that had been stolen along with it was nowhere to be seen. Hector also recalled from his Intel that Leonhart had a habit of just leaving the stolen artifacts lying somewhere where the owner or any other person could find it.

Unfortunately Leonhart wasn't stupid enough to leave tracks in the snow for them to follow, which was when Hector had contacted his superiors.

Even as his men split up, he had to wonder just where the brat could have gone. He stayed where he was; watching as his men scoured the surrounding area – he couldn't have gotten that far, he didn't have his junctions with him.

The docks were about the only open area within the entire town, aside from the central square. There were benches and wide sidewalks where pedestrians could walk about. Trees had been planted in the surrounding areas to give the town a naturistic feel. The ground was made of stoned tiles, neatly placed beside one another. Hector couldn't help but think that whoever had designed the town had had a lot of time on their hands.

As his men searched through trees and questioned the workers, Hector's frown deepened. He didn't like the idea that the punk could hide himself in an open area, but what kind of SeeD would he have been if he couldn't blend in. It was becoming infuriating.

Sighing loudly, Hector moved from where they'd discovered the bike, but when he heard something from behind he turned around sharply, his hand on the handle of his 9mm. The sight he was rewarded with was the open sea and the night sky – he was standing just beside a railing overlooking the ocean.

Taking one last tentative look, Hector strode away to his nearest man, hoping to find the brat soon.

What Hector didn't realize as he strode off was had he looked down over the railing, he would have located the missing teenager, hanging underneath the ledge, his hand having slipped and knocked a loose rock against the wall side.

* * *

Squall mentally cursed himself, even as he breathed a sigh of relief. Had the henchman stuck around, he would've given himself away. It was a good thing he'd jumped the railing as soon as he'd ditched the bike, but he'd expected some sort of landing underneath him. He'd been mistake – all that lay before him as he hung on for dear life was the beach and an expanse of ocean.

Taking a chance and peaking over the railing wall, he made sure the coast was clear before manoeuvring himself towards the closest boat. All the holiday vessels were docked for the night – what kind of people would want to take a guided tour of the continent at night anyway? – so his only option were the cargo boats heading to various different locations.

His arms were getting tired, but the teenager forced himself to continue onward. He couldn't afford to get caught by these men; he needed to find out what they were up to first, and if they had their way, he'd be useless to everyone else.

He was damned if that were to happen.

Finally, his arms gave out on him, and he slipped as he reached out for the rock in front of him. Stifling a surprised shout, he managed to grab a hold of the side of the boat, struggling to still his heartbeat. After a moment, he pulled himself up onto the boat and ducked down, right before he could be spotted by the enemy. Once the man was out of eyeshot, Squall rose to his feet, looking around for anyone who might catch him. When he didn't see anyone, he quickly moved towards the closest door, opened it and shut it behind him.

What greeted him were a set of stairs heading down. He was about to survey his options when he heard voices from behind the door. That made up his mind for him; he headed downward, finding a large assortment of boxes inside of the room the stairs led to. He supposed this was where all the crates were stowed while being transported.

Squall then became very well aware of the fact that he had no idea where this boat was heading.

He searched the boxes for any kind of clue that would answer this question; he was back to square one if the boat was Esthar bound, and Balamb would recognize him easily enough. Galbadia was larger and far more populated, so he'd have a good chance of staying out of sight of the authorities, but anyone around the world who had seen the broadcast would be looking out for him. He'd have to be cautious when he stepped out on land again – he'd been exceptionally lucky in Trabia.

Finally, he found a slip of paper and picked it up, inspecting it under the dim light. Most of the words he couldn't make out right away, but after taking a few minutes to read it, he realized that it must have been an order form of some kind. Normally, the order forms were left with the crew, but Squall wouldn't put it past them to have an extra copy with the crates just in case. There were a couple other pieces of paper placed around the other cargo boxes, and Squall assumed that they must be bound for a different location.

The one he held in hand at the moment read Dollet, so Squall assumed that this was where these particular crates were heading.

He'd been to Dollet before, so he knew the layout fairly well. It was an old rustic town; the buildings always meeting the décor the town seemed to want to emulate. It was going to have to do; he could hide out there and somehow figure out a way to find out about the most recent situation.

Obviously, he knew about Trabia's destruction, but it would help if he could learn more about it. For instance, how had the terrorist been able to get into Esthar long enough to wire a remote and fire missiles?

The answer to that one was pretty obvious; there was more than one spy. It was becoming less and less likely that Schipner was working alone in the government. Someone else had to have had a hand in this.

Sighing, Squall sank onto the floor, his feet flat against the floor with his arms resting on his knees. There was a window to his left, so he could figure out when he was arriving at Dollet, and it helped to shed some natural light into the room. He couldn't just wait around for something else to happen; what if one of the other Gardens got targeted? Or even the Estharian or Galbadian Residences? If he wanted to do more than just sit around, he was going to have to figure some things out.

He'd been thinking for only a few minutes when a bright light clicked on to the right of him. It startled him for a second – had he set off some sort of alarm? – but after a moment, a staticky sound filled the air, startling the teenager to his feet. But when he looked in the direction of the light, he realized it was imitating from a flat screen in the wall. He was just about to wonder about the logic of a television in the cargo hold when he heard the door from the top of the stairs open and close.

As quickly and as quietly as he could, Squall ducked behind a set of crates, but was still in line of sight for the television should anything important come up, even as the unmistakable thumping of heavy boots descended the stairs. When the man reached the bottom, Squall noted that the man was slightly heavy set, but in no way did he think of it as fat; the man was pretty well built. He was wearing a cotton shirt with a dark green vest over top of it and a black toque was settled atop his head, revealing damp dark hair. A pair of black pants – presumably snow pants – and a pair of black boots was the rest of it.

The loud steps came closer and Squall hoped he hadn't been spotted, using the crates as his cover as he held his breath. He ducked down when the sounds continued to come closer, hoping he wouldn't have to resort to drastic measures. Soon, the steps stopped – right in front of his location.

Squall didn't so much as breathe when he realized this fact.

But instead of circling around and finding the teenage stowaway, the man simply grabbed one of the crates in front of the SeeD and positioned it in front of the television before sitting on top of it. The box creaked but held.

He released the breath silently, thanking good fortune for that one; maybe he'd inherited Laguna's string of good luck.

After a moment, he banished the thought; he wouldn't be in this mess if that had been the case.

Testing that luck, Squall poked his head around the corner and heard the man curse in Trabian at the screen as a news anchor appeared on the screen. He figured that hadn't been one of the man's favoured options, but knew it could be useful to him. Keeping quiet and making absolutely positive he wasn't spotted, Squall continued to watch.

* * *

**12:07:21**

* * *

The Commander of Garden stood with his hands clasped behind him at an attentive state; his dark hair nicely kept from his face despite the day's earlier events. Xu didn't know how he managed to do it, but figured it was a good thing he did; she didn't even want to think about what would happen should the Commander lose his head.

She stood at attention as well; away from the projection screen that was, without a doubt, broadcasting her superior live globally. Commander Greenwood and the Garden Faculty of both Balamb and Galbadia Gardens had only just come to the decision and even though she knew no one was going to be happy (the Garden's populous especially), she understood it had to be done. Still, moral in this endeavour was going to be at an all time low.

One of the Garden Faculty moved to activate the comlink that would activate the Public Address system. The Commander didn't so much as bat an eye even as he received the signal to go ahead with his announcement.

"SeeDs and Cadets of Balamb and Galbadia Garden; citizens, civil servants and Government officials of Balamb; of Galbadia; of Timber and Dollet; or Fisherman's Horizon, Esthar and Trabia. I disrupt your lives for only the most major of reasons. By now everyone in this world have been made painfully aware of the attacks in Esthar, as well as the tragedy that has taken place over an hour ago. We have also been made painfully aware of the person who was responsible for these attacks, both directly and indirectly and I regret the notion that he is a member of Garden, specifically this Garden.

"I cannot bring back the lives of the men, women and children who were killed in both attacks." The Commander continued. "And I cannot begin to imagine the losses that are felt from families and friends of the fallen. We can build our buildings back; we can try to ease the pain of those who are suffering, and we can make those responsible pay for what they've done.

"So it is with those losses in mind that Garden – all of Garden – unites to fight a war against these terrorists. Even though Squall Leonhart was seen as an honoured member of SeeD, and helped to save us all four months ago, he has shown Garden and the rest of the world his true colours, and we will put a stop to this tirade.

"Therefore, I am issuing an order to all SeeD members currently out in the field, as well as those stationed within the Garden: an order to apprehend Squall Leonhart at all costs. Be assured that he is extremely dangerous, armed or otherwise and that all units are to exercise extreme caution in dealing with the terrorist.

"Esthar, Galbadia and all other nations: what will you do? Will you stand alongside Garden and fight? Or will you give into these ridiculous demands?"

The terminals were disconnected, and the private address system had been disabled upon the end of the announcement to SeeD. As soon as she was positive that it was alright, she moved over to her superior, who sighed thoughtfully. "Now it's up to the rest of the world." The Commander said. "Martine should be making a follow up announcement to validate what has been said about his Garden's role. Far be it for me to speak for him."

"I think you pretty much summed it up." Xu said. "Hopefully others will take after your example."

"It's still up in the air for Esthar," the Commander spoke but before Xu could say anything, he continued. "But I think their President and Cabinet shall do the right thing. They are good people, and have good heads on their shoulders."

* * *

"Well congradu-fucking-lations!" Seifer snapped. Even though they were in the narrow hallway that led to the dormitories, Quistis still shushed him. Not that it would work of course. "Your Commander's a fucking moron!"

Zell almost pounced on him for the comment, but Selphie stepped into the line of fire. Fortunately for her, Zell stopped before he could knock her down. However, since Quistis was closer, she took the opportunity to slap her former student upside the head. "That was uncalled for."

"It's the truth," Seifer defended.

"And let me guess," Quistis retorted. "You can't say anything until we get out of earshot."

"Guess you're not so dumb after all, Instructor," Seifer sneered. "You just act it somedays."

Quistis huffed, before they continued their way.

* * *

Even while the Galbadian Garden Master was giving his address, the Galbadian Presidential Residence was busy. Caraway was well aware that the SeeDs stationed under his jurisdiction had heard the address, and his people were currently preparing for their own response.

Caraway himself felt like a fool; he had tried to protect a man who couldn't have caused the murders in Esthar only to learn that he had been a part of it. He was going to have words with Rinoa about this.

He didn't hold anyone else but Squall responsible for his actions; the teenager was capable of making his own decisions and he had made his choice clear to everyone else. But even as Garden was calling all men and women to arms he refused to sit idle in this situation; it was just as much Galbadia's problem as it was Esthar or Gardens. He was especially proud of the Gardens for standing up; it was their personnel they were dealing with after all.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder about the Balamb Headmaster; why hadn't he been standing alongside the Commander or even mentioned in the message? He'd have to contact the Commander and get the answers for that one.

* * *

He slumped against the crates immediately after the address had been made. The worker had made some kind of commentary, but by then his mind had gone numb and he'd stopped listening.

While it had inevitable that they would declare war – and who wouldn't under the circumstances – it still stung; Garden had been his home for the last thirteen years, and now they were after his arrest because the terrorist had a body double of him.

Reflexively, he backed his fist into the crates before belatedly recalling that he was trying _not_ to draw attention to himself. The worker jumped slightly and Squall stayed as still as humanly possible, hoping he hadn't blown his cover.

The man turned around for what could be counted as a second before shrugging and returning his attention to the screen. "Stupid rats," Squall heard him mumble.

Sighing in relief, Squall slumped quietly against the wall beside the crates, feet braced against the floor. He had to seriously weigh his options and came to a grave conclusion.

This time he was on his own.

* * *

**12:19:56**

* * *

"The Gardens have made their move," Jared stated grimly. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Galbadia followed their example."

Laguna nodded, equally grim. It was as though he was trapped in some kind of nightmare and it was spirally so far out of control the only way out was to wake up. Obviously that wasn't the case; Laguna knew he'd have woken up by then.

"We need to think of our own response," Carol added. "These attacks started with Esthar, and they should end with Esthar."

"Making pretty speeches won't do anything aside from cause people to talk about it." Laguna said. "Frankly, I'm done talking. We've wasted enough time already."

Laguna immediately pressed the intercom and immediately Deilia's voice sounded from the other side. "Have an uplink set up between my office and Balamb Garden."

He received an affirmative, and the connection was cut off.

"But there's still the business of the Missile Base." Mark said. "The terrorists said they'll launch missiles if their demands aren't met in the next half hour."

"Do you want to step down?" Christine asked. "More to the point, can Esthar afford to have any of us step down?"

Mark grew silent and Christine directed her attention to the President. "We should start evacuating people from the surrounding cities to the capital. The missile base is out on the outskirts, so I doubt they'd risk blowing up the capital."

"It sort of explains why they only want us to step down instead of killing us." Diane said. "If they destroy the missile base, then they have nothing left to threaten us with."

"Proceed with the evacuation order." Laguna said. "If it'll help things out, I'd gladly have the whole world take refuge here."

He could tell by the looks on everyone else's faces that he'd gone a tad overboard with his last statement but he didn't care. As it stood the only safe place was the capital of Esthar and while he had faith in the other countries, if it came down to it he'd gladly open the boarders to his country.

"Sir," Deilia's voice sounded on the COM system. "I have Balamb Garden holding."

"Thanks." Laguna responded quickly before activating the link. The Cabinet members positioned themselves accordingly, even though – in Laguna's opinion at least – they didn't have to. "Commander Greenwood; I wish we could speak under better circumstances."

"I wish the same thing, Mr. President." The Commander responded. Laguna resisted the urge to correct the other man; there were more important things at stake than how he was addressed. "However, you called the Garden for a reason."

"I did." Laguna said and he took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. If anyone had told him he was going to be doing what he was doing five years ago, he'd have laughed and called the person an idiot. "After the address you made to the world, the cabinet and I did some serious consideration and have decided to join in the cause."

"I just received contact from Galbadia on the subject." The Commander said. "It's good that you have decided on this course of action."

"Well Esthar's resources are at your disposal as well," Laguna said, leaning back into his chair. "Also, I would like to request a contract between Esthar and the Garden. It's concerning the repercussions of our uncooperativeness. The terrorists have promised to launch missiles if they don't receive a response to their demands within the hour. We're evacuating citizens of Esthar to the capital – it's the safest location on our continent, but we would like to enlist SeeDs help with the evacuation. We are willing to pay whatever we need to."

"Understood." Greenwood nodded. "I'll start sending SeeD members as soon as I can. Galbadia has also requested this mission as well, so that's half the work done already."

"Good to hear it," Laguna said. He'd had a feeling Caraway would have the same thing planned. "In the event that Galbadia runs out of places to evacuate to, they are more than welcome to come to Esthar."

"I'll be sure to pass along the message." Greenwood said. "And sir, if I may…"

"Don't apologize on behalf of my son's actions," Laguna interrupted. "That's the last thing we need right now. He's chosen what he's chosen and I had no part in it. Right now we need to focus on the task at hand."

"Understood sir." Greenwood said and his image disappeared from the screen as the connection dispersed.

* * *

It hadn't taken much longer to reach a secure location. They'd chosen Quistis' room; as a Student Councillor, she was awarded slightly more space and a lot more privacy than any of the SeeDs or cadets. Before entering, Quistis had been forced to loop the images from outside her room before ushering the others inside and firmly locking the door behind them.

The room was simply decorated with an L-shaped desk along the far corner against the wall. A computer was positioned closest to the window on a lower shelf while the monitor sat on the otherwise clear desk. Zell and Selphie pulled out a couple of chairs for everyone to sit on, but Seifer immediately moved towards the desk, pulling a laptop out from the bundled up sweatshirt he carried. Obviously he hadn't wanted anyone else to see it and Selphie stared at it critically. "But I thought that got confiscated."

"He doesn't know what the word means, Selph," Zell retorted. Surprisingly, Seifer ignored them both as he booted up the system.

"This better be good, Seifer." Quistis snapped; her hands on her hips. She hadn't been at all impressed when the suggested location had been her room.

"Trust me, it is." Seifer snapped back as he continued to wait. He impatiently tapped his index and middle fingers atop the surface of the desk as he did.

"Wouldn't trust him as far as I could through him if it were me," Zell muttered.

"Shouldn't we wait for Rinoa?" Selphie asked.

"We can wait until she wakes up," Quistis responded, taking a seat atop her bed. No one had felt comfortable with the choice. "I'd rather have all the facts before I explain anything to her." Selphie nodded in agreement.

"Finally," Seifer breathed when the laptop finally finished loading.

"So spill," Zell said. "Why are you back here?"

"Cid contacted me two months ago from where I was laying low," Seifer started.

"Which was…?" Zell pressed, but Seifer ignored him.

"He said he'd known where I was all along, but hadn't actually done anything about it until then. He said something bad happened in Esthar and it made him suspicious and he wanted me to check things out."

"Why you?" Quistis asked.

"Because he needed someone under the radar," Seifer said. "Said I was the best for the job. Hell, you have to admit, you never expected to see me again, no matter how hard you tried to find me."

Quistis frowned thoughtfully. He had a point.

"Anyways," Seifer continued. "he told me to head to Balamb Garden and to lay low for as long as I could. He said if I got caught, I had to tell them he'd invited me back and nothin' after that."

"Why implicate himself?" Zell asked. "He had to know he'd get in trouble if you told him that."

"You're guess is as good as mine, Chickenwuss." Seifer shrugged. "He probably had his reasons, but there's not much we can do about it now. Before he left, he said I should fill you guys in."

"Why?" Selphie asked.

"Hell if I know; all you'll do is slow me down." Seifer snapped. "But I figured since I've been doin' this his way all this time that I might as well continue."

"And what do you get out of all this?" Quistis asked.

Seifer grinned back at her. "The chance to make you all look bad."

Quistis' frown deepened; he'd already done that – hiding in the Garden for two months without detection was a feat in itself.

"So what did the Headmaster want you to check out?" Selphie asked.

Seifer paused; probably for effect, but after a moment he glanced at each of them before he answered the question. "There's a mole in the Garden and Cid wants me to find out who it is."

"He figured that out two months ago?" Selphie asked incredulously. Seifer nodded. "Why didn't he say anything?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Seifer asked. "Because everyone's a suspect; even you rejects. Though I've managed to prove that none of you coulda been involved. Not a difficult task though; you're all girl scouts."

Zell glowered at Seifer when he didn't make an attempt to correct himself, but the elder boy paid no attention. "He hasn't even told Xu what he's up to. Edea wasn't too happy when she found out though."

"All this from what happened in Esthar?" Seifer nodded in response to Quistis' question. "Why?"

"Puberty boy didn't tell you what happened?"

"All he said was that Sis had almost been kidnapped and that it was averted."

"Nothing else?" Seifer asked and everyone shook their heads in response. "Then it's my job to fill you in."

"How would you know?" Selphie asked.

"Cid told me."

"Who told the Headmaster?" Zell asked.

"Esthar's President." Seifer said leaning back into the chair. It squeaked in protest and Quistis glared at him, but Seifer did nothing to correct himself. "See, an attempt did happen, and Sis was prevented from being kidnapped, but the Headmaster thinks that something bigger was happening."

"You mean they wanted to kill Sir Laguna too?" Selphie asked and Seifer stared at her as though she had a horn in her head.

"What the fuck?"

"Just continue," Quistis urged. "Was there an attempt on Laguna's life as well?"

"No, nothing that big," Seifer waved off, still staring at Selphie like she'd come out of the wall. "But that suspicion didn't rear its ugly head until _after_ Laguna spilt the beans to him 'bout him and the Puberty boy."

"Wait, you know?" Selphie asked.

"'Course I know," Seifer answered. "I wouldn't let Cid go on without telling me what the big secret was. Anyway, Cid figured it was some huge conspiracy. Why would Esthar get attacked the same time Puberty boy was there?"

"Well, if we put together what we know now," Selphie started. "if Squall was in league with the terrorists, then he'd have tried to be there to absolve himself from the attempt."

"That's going on the assumption that he's in league with the terrorists in the first place." Seifer said.

"You don't think he is?" Zell asked and Seifer shook his head. "How can you be so damned sure?"

"And 'Because I said so' isn't a good enough excuse." Quistis said. "Actually, it's not an excuse at all."

"How 'bout this?" Seifer snapped. "Leonhart's a pussy; doesn't got the balls to do something like this. Good enough for you?"

"Squall's not a 'pussy'!" Selphie defended. "If he was, we'd have never beaten Ulti!"

"Okay," Seifer said pointing at Selphie as he spoke. "You are starting to scare me with the nicknames, so stop it already."

"Alright, Seifie!" Selphie said cheerfully. "But to get back to the point, I think people who launch missiles at unsuspecting cities or buildings are pussies."

"She's got you there, Seifie." Zell said, grinning ear to ear.

"Anyway!" Quistis said before the commentary could turn into a debate or something worse. "Do you have actual proof that clears Squall? And if so why didn't you show it to the Commander?"

"All circumstantial. That guy's got a stick shoved so far up his ass he makes you look bad, Instructor."

Quistis glared at him, but Seifer continued. "But getting back on track; Cid thinks that the kidnapping attempt had more to it than what it seemed."

"What're you saying?" Zell asked. "That the terrorists we're dealing with and the attempted kidnapping two months ago are somehow connected?"

"Now you're thinking, Chickenwuss."

"But if they could've gotten inside the Presidential Palace back then, why didn't they just wire the Missile base to the missiles back then?" Selphie asked.

"Maybe because they didn't think they'd need to back then." Seifer shrugged. "Either way, they were after something and Cid asked me to look into it."

"Wait a minute," Quistis interjected. "Squall came back from Esthar shortly after the attempt, but was immediately summoned up to the Headmaster's office. I remember Rinoa complaining about that. Shortly after that, Squall, Selphie and Zell were sent out to Deling with five other SeeDs."

"Yep." Seifer said. "Cid did that on purpose."

"But why?" Quistis asked.

"Cid figured if anyone woulda found me out sooner than this, it woulda been Puberty boy. See, the thing about that is that Puberty boy is always drawn to trouble and, well, trouble's my middle name."

"So do you know who this mole is?" Zell asked.

"I have suspicions, but I don't wanna say anything yet. Not until I have concrete evidence."

"But what do we do in the meantime?" Selphie asked.

"Simple; wait for me to get that proof, and act as you are even though you know this shit. And tell no one except Rinoa or the Cowdung. Where is that long-haired freak anyway?"

Selphie frowned but Zell answered him. "_Irvine__'s_ in the infirmary in case Rin wakes up."

"Well no one ever accused him of being useful, that's for sure." Seifer said.

Before Selphie could say anything, the Public Address System came back to life with the tell-tale chime. "Oh, fuck off!" Seifer shouted in its direction and Quistis shushed him.

"Will the following SeeD personnel please report to the Quad," Xu's voice came on the system before beginning to recite the names of those who fit the criteria.

"A mission?" Zell asked. "Right now?"

"Garden still has to support itself." Quistis said.

"Right now, Garden needs to shut the fuck up and let me work in peace!" Seifer snapped. Selphie retorted in picking up a piece of crumpled paper from a nearby waste bin and tossing it at the former cadet. It hit Seifer square in the back of the neck before bouncing onto the floor.

"Hey!" Quistis said in protest.

"Shhh!" Zell shushed everyone and an instant later, his last name was sounded. The brawler sighed grudgingly. "I'm out."

"We'll miss you," Seifer said sarcastically.

"Shove it up your ass, Almasy!" Zell snapped before leaving the room. Seifer chuckled in response.

After that, no other sound was made except Xu's voice and soon afterwards, Selphie's last name was called. Immediately standing up, she rushed out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Quistis listened intently for a moment before the announcement ended. Her name hadn't come up.

Directing her attention towards the ex-cadet, Quistis sighed loudly. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

Seifer gestured towards the computer with his head before answering. "Make yourself useful; punch that computer up and get to work. You have clearance that I don't."

Quistis frowned but simply moved to her computer, turning it on before grabbing a chair – Seifer was sitting on the computer chair. The time she could have spent arguing with him was going to be used to help her Garden instead.

* * *

**12:31:43**

* * *

Rinoa looked up at the clock of the Garden infirmary and sighed. Dr. Kadowaki had only just looked her over, but she knew she was alright. She found that she was surprisingly calmer given the circumstance and she hated the numb feeling. She wanted to be angry; to throw a fit or _something_ at someone for this.

The window behind her displayed that the sky was lightening; dawn was fast approaching. Normally, she would have watched it in awe, but the sunrise didn't matter anymore.

What matter now was that Squall was no longer there with her to enjoy it.

She could feel tears pooling in her eyes at the mere thought, but surprisingly she held them back with ease. She wasn't sure she liked feeling like this, and she pulled her knees up to rest under her chin, her hair falling either side of her face and tickling her bare skin.

A knock on the door interrupted her melancholy thoughts and she looked up to see Irvine standing tentatively at the doorway. He looked surprised – probably because he hadn't expected her to be away just yet – but he quickly composed himself as he came to sit next to the bed.

Wiping at her eyes, Rinoa attempted a smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Alright, who lost the coin toss?"

"I've been here for a while, now." Irvine said. "Just went out to stretch my legs. Wasn't gone _that_ long."

"What happened while I was out?" Rinoa asked. She didn't need to tell him what she remembered last; she was sure it was apparent by her facial features.

Irvine took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rinoa could tell through that alone that it was bad news. "Start _after_ I lost consciousness."

"The Missile Base in Esthar was infiltrated by the terrorists and they hotwired a remote to control the launches." Irvine started. "The people who worked there are dead; the terrorist killed them. And the missiles were launched shortly after we found out about it."

Irvine took in another deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Trabia Garden was hit… again. From what we saw, it was completely destroyed."

"Saw?" Rinoa asked; a different kind of numb gripping her now.

Irvine nodded. "The terrorists set up some kind of device that controlled the world's televisions, monitors, holographic projectors – you name it, they controlled it. They broadcast Trabia Garden for about a minute before the missiles hit and blew it up."

"How's--?" Rinoa started, but was cut off.

"Selphie's okay… well, as okay as anyone can be after witnessing that."

Rinoa could tell that Irvine was hesitating about something and frowned in response. "What else is there that you're not telling me?"

Another sigh and the Galbadian Sharpshooter resumed where he had left off. "After Trabia blew up, the guy who pressed the button came on the screen and demanded that Esthar's entire government step down from office. He said that if they didn't, another city would get blown up two hours from then, and then another one an hour after that until their demands were made."

"And?" Rinoa pressed, knowing that this bit of bad news wasn't all.

Irvine hung his head; as if he had just been chosen to relate the worst possible news in the world. When he looked up again, his gaze was sincere; almost sympathetic. "It was Squall who did it."

Rinoa stared at him for a full minute before shaking her head. "No, you're lying. You're lying; Squall wouldn't do something like that."

"Rin, I'm sorry. I wouldn't lie about somethin' this bad. He admitted it himself; said he'd had the whole thing planned out."

"How can you be so sure?" Rinoa asked suddenly. "The plane crashed; the Estharians said there weren't any survivors except for that Security guy. It could be an impostor."

"I don't know what to think anymore." Irvine sighed. "But I ran into Selphie while I was stretching. She was headin' to the Bridge with Zell and both said the others are in Quistis' room."

"Others?" Rinoa asked and Irvine nodded grimly.

"Seifer's back. And because of that, the Headmaster got tossed out. He was the one who opened the door for him."

Rinoa ran her right hand through her hair, trying to sort through everything Irvine was telling her. It was just too much to comprehend all at once and it made her head hurt. "Then I guess we better get going."

"You okay to…" Irvine asked, but Rinoa interrupted him.

"I'm fine Irvine. Let's just go."

That said, it was the Sorceress who led the Sharpshooter out of the infirmary towards the dorms.

* * *

The Quad had gone through changes since before the Ultimecia War began. Gone was the stage where most of the students and SeeDs spent their time watching the sky or sitting between classes or missions. Because the Garden had not been mobile up until the Missile attack from Galbadia, no one had known how to control the ship and had inadvertedly crashed into Fisherman's horizon; a couple days south of their current location on the continent of Balamb. Repairs had been made, however no attempt to salvage the destroyed stage had been made.

Instead, the floor – originally overlaid with white tiles – was replaced by mustard-yellow carpeting, rimmed in red with lights positioned along the edges bordering the walls. The balcony – having been destroyed during the Garden war in Centra – had also been repaired and still retained the white tiles that had been there previously. The balcony banister had also been replaced.

Now, a set of nearly one hundred SeeDs stood at attention in front of their commander; most dressed casually, some in SeeD uniforms but all saluting Garden's leader. Commander Greenwood returned the salute and everyone remained at attention, arms resting on either side. They were positioned alphabetically by last name; a mesh of blacks and other colour assortments clashing not unattractively.

The Commander cleared his throat before speaking, the Garden Faculty standing proudly behind him as he spoke. "As you are very well aware, I have made it Garden's primary objective to locate any and all terrorists in order to ensure a hasty end to this tragedy. However, Garden also has alternative duties in assisting the other nations of the world. We have just received a request for SeeD to assist in the evacuation of several cities – large and small – in order to prevent any further casualties due to the Missile Launch. We cannot allow the terrorists to get away with any more bloodshed. Depending on the size of the city, the teams will obviously be bigger. Likewise, smaller SeeD cells will be needed in aiding the evacuation of smaller villages or towns.

"The teams will be have already been decided and have been given to each Garden Faculty member standing behind me. To locate your team, simply file in under the first initial of your last name, and settle into the numbered allotment thus following. For example, if your last name begins with A, you will head to the Garden Faculty Member at the end of the line to my right. They will give you a number that you cannot forget; this number determines which team you are on. Once the teams have been settled, you will be dismissed in order to prepare for immediate departure. There will be no exceptions unless I personally delay the team.

"Remember; your mission is important, but if anyone comes across any of the terrorists along the way, especially Squall Leonhart, execute extreme caution and report to the Squad Leader, which will also be determined by the Garden Faculty. The location of anyone involved in the terrorist cell is of top priority."

The SeeD members saluted their Commander once again before immediately heading to their respective Faculty member. Zell noticed the Commander speaking with Xu for a moment before leaving the Quad.

Once he'd obtained his number, he moved off to the side, where he assumed he was supposed to wait before more SeeDs began to head his way. He realized that some were on his team, while others moved on upon comparing numbers, trying to locate the rest of their team.

One girl; a dark - red haired girl who looked roughly around the same age as Xu - folded her arms across her chest. She had at least six piercing in her left ear, eight in her right, and an earring on her left eyebrow. Zell didn't think that having that many piercing in your head was normal, but then again most people thought the same about his tattoo.

"According to the readout I received," the girl said, "we should have at least one more member before I give any further instructions."

Zell assumed that since this girl knew so much that she must have been assigned as their Squad leader. Which was just fine with him of course.

Suddenly, something jumped on his back and he shouted out in surprise, trying to push whatever-if-was off of him. Fortunately, whatever-it-was had already released him and he turned around to see Selphie grinning ear-to-ear. "Whoo hoo!" she shouted enthusiastically.

The red-head counted for a minute before nodding. "That makes six of us – two squads. "We're heading to a town southeast of Timber known as Systar."

"Did you say sister?" Zell echoed and the girl shook her head.

"_Systar. _It's not high on the radar, but it's a good place to start. There's a cave a little further east of the town, which leads to an underground cavern. It should protect the civilians from the missiles should it be the one targeted. We'll also have to assist them in establishing an encampment before awaiting further orders. Sound simple enough?"

"Piece of cake," another girl – a brunette – shrugged.

"Good. We set out in thirty, so go get ready and meet me at the front gate."

* * *

"So, have I cleared everything up?" Quistis asked.

Irvine and Rinoa nodded almost in unison. Upon arriving, Quistis had immediately sat them down and explained the current situation. Rinoa had accused Irvine of lying to her, even though he hadn't been there when any further explanation had been given. Seifer had ignored the trio in favour of continuing his work. The occasional remark came from where he sat, but he went mostly ignored as well.

"So what should we do now?" Irvine asked.

"There's not much we can do." Quistis sighed. "Except find the mole hiding in the Garden."

"But what about Squall?" Rinoa asked. "Shouldn't we find him?"

"I'm sorry Rinoa," Quistis said. "But there's no guarantee that he's still alive. It could have just been some sick trick the terrorists cooked up. And even if he did survive, we wouldn't know where to look first."

"We could always start at the crash site." Irvine suggested.

"Yeah, that's brilliant." Seifer snorted. "Start combing the area looking for someone who's supposed to be a terrorist. That'll go well with everyone who asks up what we're doing."

Seifer's commentary, as usual, went ignored.

"And we can't exactly contact him to find out where he is either." Quistis continued, unhindered. "The last time we heard of him, he was involved in a plane crash. Not only is he probably not in any condition to do anything, but he probably has no way of receiving any kind of call from us. And even if he did, we don't know what frequency we could use and might very well end up tipping off the rest of the world to what we are up to."

"And then you'd all be useless," Seifer responded. Once again, he was ignored.

"You are such a downer, Quisty," Irvine said after a moment.

"Isn't there even a small chance that he's still alive?" Rinoa asked.

"I admit there may be a slim chance, but even Squall's human." Quistis said. "If he did survive, then he'd find some way to contact us. And that's only _if_ he didn't see the Commander's broadcast. If that happened, he probably wouldn't ask for help at all; he'd think he was on his own."

"He'd at least try to reason with us." Rinoa protested.

"Well either way, we're stuck until he does; that is _if_ he does." Quistis commented. "We'll just have to help out on our end as much as we can. "

"Can you help out telepathically so I can concentrate?" Seifer asked, to which everyone just glared at him. "No answer? Good. Now I can finally concentrate."

* * *

**12:46:18**

* * *

He was beginning to feel like a sardine more than anything else.

He'd made it to the evidence room down the hall a few minutes after leaving Christine by herself, and had insisted that he had her permission to search through James' stuff. He'd even told them it was a life-or-death situation, but they still hadn't done a thing until one of them paged Christine in order to verify what he was saying. Afterwards they'd been more than cooperative; leading him to the locker in which they held the personal effects of those who were resting in the infirmary.

He'd been searching through said personal effects ever since and it was driving him up the wall. What kind of organizational setting did the Estharians have anyway?

_We can make a toaster that butters bagels, but when it comes to alphabetizing, we're pretty much useless,_ Kiros thought to himself irritably.

Just as he was about to give up and call for help, he finally noticed them; they were sitting inside of a box, having not been placed into the organizational boxes at all. Biting back a curse, Kiros immediately reached for it and pulled out the item he was looking for all along – a pair of black sunglasses.

As a higher ranking member of the government, Kiros was privy to the knowledge that these were no ordinary sunglasses, but actually recorder communicating lenses; while there were set computer chips that allowed the wearer to speak to anyone else who had a communicator as long as the frequency was clear, they also recorded audio and visual instances to a small memory chip and, if he knew James like he thought he did, he knew James would have used them while he was on the plane.

"And here I thought James was wasting his money," he muttered in amusement as he pulled the sunglasses on and pressed the play button.

At first the picture was black, but then the video began to play, Kiros begging Hyne to let it be what he hoped it was rather than a stupid vacation of some sorts. Hyne seemed to like Kiros very much because he suddenly saw himself in James' point of view onboard the plane that crashed. He seemed to be just taking a seat in his chair and a gun was raised in his direction. The vision tilted upwards and all of a sudden, Kiros was seeing Schipner holding onto the weapon, sneering at the Security Chief. What was worse was Schipner was aiming it at James. "Who are you working for?" he asked in the video.

"I'd say it was obvious." Schipner said and, for a moment, Kiros hoped he would implicate his bosses, but Schipner turned to face the other occupant riding in the back seat. "We've come to rescue our comrade in arms."

After that, the image went to static, the next commentary – he had no idea who it was that was talking – warped slightly before the feed was lost. Frowning, Kiros tried it again, only to receive the same results.

_So Schipner was a mole all along,_ Kiros thought to himself. It made some sense; after all the elder man was still missing. So far, the recovery team hadn't come across his body just yet.

Still, the evidence he held in his hands proved that Schipner was working with Squall all along. He knew Laguna wouldn't like it, but he also knew he had to hand it over.

Sighing, he left the storage locker, closing the door behind him as he left the mess he'd made.

* * *

Elaina had long since returned to her post in Trabia; assisting the men under her in locating Leonhart; last transmission had him fixed at a port town called Nighbelle. Christopher wouldn't have been surprised if Leonhart had managed to leave the continent.

Sighing, he figured that he might as well let the higher ups know of the situation. He'd thought that Elaina was more than capable with dealing with it herself, but it looked as though she was going to need some help after all.

Glancing behind him, he noticed the other workers staring at him, even as they tried to hastily return their focus to their set tasks. Christopher couldn't blame them; he was still pretty unnerved at his appearance whenever he looked in the mirror. He still hadn't gotten used to it and he'd looked like this for two months.

He'd been secluded from the rest of his cohorts for the duration; it was thought they'd either believe him to be the real thing or they'd become unnerved by his presence. Now that it was no longer necessary to hide, he found that he enjoyed doing something aside from contemplating the next phase of the plan. The time seemed to pass by faster as well.

He'd been a part of the organization since he was a child; even indirectly he'd been raised to learn the way of the old regime and loathe the injustices that had befallen the loyalists. He'd lost his parents at a very young age and would always blame the rebels for his loss.

Still, with Leonhart being his evasive self, there was no way they could exact the full extent of their revenge on the Estharian Government; not yet at least. He doubted very much the governments stepping down in spite of the danger he presented and expected them to come up with alternatives. It was nearing the end of the deadline he had set for them, but it seemed as though they were solid in their resolve.

Oh well. Christopher always was a button-pusher; even at a young age.

As he marvelled at his reflection on the screen of his monitor, the phone he used to contact his informants rang. He picked it up after the second ring. "This had better be good." He said, the voice cloaker working its magic.

"My lord you scared me." The voice on the opposite end remarked. "For a second, I thought you were the real thing."

"I've been getting that all day." Christopher remarked. He sounded angry, but on the inside he was only mildly irritated. But that emotion gave way to amusement; he never got tired of scaring the crap out of everyone. "What information do you have for me?"

"Well, I wouldn't expect any calls from Esthar." The informant continued. "They've called SeeD in order to make a contract; to evacuate the cities at risk of the missile attack. I think they know you won't be targeting Esthar's capital."

"What and break my new toy already?" Christopher joked, turning his gaze towards the remote sitting just within arms reach. "I'm not that reckless."

"Which means it's almost time to blow up another city." The voice continued. "Any ideas which one?"

"Not specifically," Christopher commented. "But it'll most definitely be Galbadian. They've been 'indirectly' involved long enough, wouldn't you say?"

"It's really up to you; you're the trigger man."

"Smart man," Christopher commented. "Is that everything you have to report?"

"No; that was just the bad news."

"Then what's the good news?"

"We've found him."

At this Christopher sat up rigid straight. He didn't say anything for a moment; his brain processing the message over and over again. Finally, he found his voice. "You better not be pulling my leg."

"I assure you, I am quite serious. He was located nearly an hour prior, but I had some… things… to take care of before I could contact you. I wouldn't want to blow my cover."

"Fair enough," Christopher said, but he was actually grinning. "So this means we can finally move along to the next phase of that operation."

"Precisely; though I'm not entirely certain of what he's told the others." The man said. "If I were to have him knocked off now, it'd be pretty suspicious. I think everyone's figured out by now that there's a mole in the Garden."

"Yeah, and you've done a great job so far. Just try to hang onto that for a little while longer before you go blowing your cover. And keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't get too out of hand. The rest, well, you don't need to be told."

"Indeed I don't." the informant said. "I'll speak to you soon."

With that, Christopher hung up before dialling another number. This was the best news he'd heard all day.

* * *

He hung up the phone, placing it atop the cradle quietly enough before the door swung open, revealing a SeeD member. He looked like he had run a marathon. "I've located Tilmitt and Dincht, like you asked. Do you want me to send them in?"

Commander Conrad Greenwood rose to his feet, a slightly irritated expression crossing his features. "I thought I told you to knock before entering my office."

"Sorry sir; it won't happen again."

"I should hope not." Conrad said, sitting back down. "I was on a very important call and I don't like to be disturbed."

The SeeD nodded and immediately fell into a salute before Conrad sighed. "As for Dincht and Tilmitt, send them in. I have something I need to discuss with them."

* * *

**_1:00:00_**


	12. Hour 12

Chapter Posted: **06/18/2007**

Chapetr Edited: **07/18/2007**

* * *

**_The following takes place between 1pm and 2pm.  
_****_Events occur in real time._**

* * *

The dark sky was littered with clouds – normally white during the day but tainted a darker blue than the atmosphere that surrounded it. Stars dotted the almost black blanket almost decoratively, making symbols of which humans had named in order to pass the time.

Isaiah Brown wondered vaguely if the guys who made up those names were bored or just stupid.

Still, he lay atop a picnic blanket on a hilltop overlooking the town of Costa de Oceana. He wore a striped t-shirt and a pair of brown pants. His sandals – black strapped with a brown base – had been discarded and his toes were curling around the grass that surrounded him.

Next to him, lips locked onto his own, was a girl named Sadie… something-or-other. He couldn't for the life of him remember her last name, but she was definitely cute. Her hair was pulled out of its ponytail, her slanted eyes closed and his hands slid down her shoulders, almost removing the spaghetti strapped pinked halter-top she wore. A pair of brown suspenders held up her jeaned short-shorts and, like Isaiah, her shoes had been discarded in favour of bare feet.

Sadie flipped herself on top of Isaiah, the latter not giving much in the way of protest as his hands came to rest on her backside. Her legs were on either side of his waist, bent at the knee and lying atop the grass beneath them as her hands rested on the back of his neck.

This was definitely not the vacation he had thought it would be.

Originally living in Deling City, the eighteen year old had come to Costa de Oceana – a resort town for tourists – with the rest of his family; his mother and father; seven year old sister, five year old brother, and his grandfather. His grandpa was celebrating his seventy-first birthday, which was why they were down at the resort in the first place; a chance to bond as a family.

That wasn't exactly Isaiah's idea of fun, so he'd managed to sneak out of the house and head to the club district of the town. The place was packed with tourist attractions like huge megaplex malls, beaches, night clubs, casinos, hotels and motels. Hell, he was hard-pressed to find a single regular house in this town!

This was nothing at all like the big city; sure it was alive at night, but this place almost rivalled Deling in how bright it was.

Isaiah had headed straight for the club district – back home he was all for the party scene – and got in pretty easy with his fake ID. Then he'd seen a bunch of girls hanging out and had played his cards. He was definitely a winner that night; he'd scored immediately with Sadie. Not long after that, they'd ditched her friends – she'd come from Dollet and was hanging out for the long weekend (Dollet had a holiday or some such thing around this time of year) – and they'd wandered around town before deciding to head to the outskirts. Almost after setting up the blanket to lie on, they'd star gazed before making out.

But even as he could catch a glimpse of Sadie's bra – looked hot pink; a little darker than her shirt anyway – Sadie broke the kiss and looked up, tucking a strand of her straight-black hair out of her face. Isaiah groaned; now was not the time to stop.

"Look at that," she said, pointing up. Her speech was slightly slurred – they'd started drinking after they'd left the club. Isaiah wasn't in the clear either; he still sported the buzz he'd happily welcomed after his third cooler in thirty minutes. Suffice it to say that Isaiah was in a much more content state, and would be even more content with getting back to making out with this girl.

But if it meant getting back to kissing her instead of listening to her, he figured he'd at least humour her; he looked in the direction that she was pointing, and almost shit himself when he saw it.

It was bigger than any shooting star he'd ever seen in his life (okay, so it wasn't that many since he lived in the big city, but it was still an accomplishment). It was coming in from overhead – he was too drunk to be able to discern direction – and it whooshed passed them, blowing wind and leaves into their hair and faces. Sadie's hair flew right into her face, blocking her view, and Isaiah rose to his feet in order to see where the 'shooting star' was heading.

Suddenly, the sky lit up – not something he was used to – and more wind blasted towards them, nearly knocking them off their feet. Sadie screamed loudly, covering her head with her hands and ducking down. The wind finally knocked Isaiah onto his ass, but from his vantage point, he could see exactly where that 'shooting star' was headed.

It landed in the town below them; the sound so deafening that Isaiah couldn't hear anything. But he saw what resulted from the impact; the 'shooting star' landed right smack into the center of town, where a big cloud picked up right afterwards.

The wind picked up again; enough force to knock both teenagers further away, Sadie landing on her stomach and Isaiah hitting the back of his head off the ground. Stars swam in his vision and he winced as he pulled himself back up, Sadie groaning something nearby.

"What just happened?" Sadie shouted; having been shocked sober.

With his buzz gone, Isaiah was able to think more clearly than he had previously. He realized belatedly that what he had originally called a shooting star was in actuality some kind of rocket. Thinking back on it, he realized that three or four of them (at the very least) had flown overhead. It was a small wonder he and Sadie had managed to survive.

That's when he realized with a gut wrenching feeling that his family was in the center of town; staying at a hotel for the duration of their vacation.

Sadie screamed something incomprehensible – Isaiah figured she'd come to the same conclusion about her friends. Still, he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment; his family was gone in a puff of smoke. His five year old little brother and his seven year old sister wouldn't even get to make it to high school. It didn't seem fair; that he got to survive just because he'd snuck out to go partying.

Then, Sadie screamed again, but it was more out of fear than out of pain.

Isaiah pulled himself from his mental musings in order to see what Sadie was screaming about and he screamed too.

A huge black dust cloud was heading straight towards them.

Grabbing Sadie's hand out of panic, he ran in the opposite direction. Soon enough, Sadie caught on and started running with him, but he somehow he knew they wouldn't be able to outrun it.

Sadie stumbled and fell onto the ground, bringing Isaiah down with her. Both looked behind them and screamed one final time as the dust cloud overtook them, the particles of broken debris and the remains of the town ripping their bodies apart.

The only good thing about it was they died too quickly to feel any real pain.

* * *

Once again, all eyes were focused on their screens or holographic projectors, paying witness to another attack; this time, what appeared to be a Galbadian city. Hell, the explosion could be seen from the Galbadian Capital, it had been so close.

The Galbadians were already on it; scrounging up emergency teams in order to investigate the damages. The government officials were hoping for survivors but after learning of the results thus far in Trabia, it was difficult to be optimistic.

Even as they saw the destruction, the officials and everyone else in the world who was witnessing this act was faced by the man who had caused it all. The dark-haired youth on the screen was staring at them all with an emotionless expression, however it felt somewhat chilled. It was natural; Squall always had that kind of effect on everyone.

The real Squall, however, could only stare in morbid and silent outraged as the impostor spoke to any and all that were watching and listening. He had been rendered speechless when the town had been destroyed, the dust rising up and almost taking everything out within sprinting distance. Judging by the fact that the image was still there, Squall had to guess that the camera was either protected by something or was just out of reach of the dust. The latter didn't seem plausible, so it had to have been the former.

The man who'd turned on the television was rendered speechless as well, excluding the occasional explicative that flew from his mouth every few seconds. He was glued to the screen; unable to take his eyes off the image, even as the impostor spoke for him. "Esthar has exceeded its time limit, so I'm afraid this town had to suffer the consequences. Maybe now they'll realize I'm serious."

_But…_ Squall's mind thought numbly, trying to comprehend why everyone would believe that he would do anything like this for whatever reason but knowing full well the answer to that mystery.

"Sorry to say Galbadia, but this time, it was Esthar's fault. I'm not completely clear of the blame."

_It's not…_ The numbness was slowly consuming him as he tried to figure this out; even as he mentally denied that he had any involvement in the attacks. _It's not me… It can't be me…_I'm_ me…_

"Unfortunately, because of Esthar's stupidity, I have to repeat myself. This town was unfortunately the target of the second attack, and the attacks will continue from this point on, each and every hour, until Esthar caves."

_The way he talks; the way he acts; the way he thinks; the things he does… how can anyone possibly confuse him for me?_

"Trust me when I say I would rather not take anymore lives in this struggle; the Estharian government is being childish, but that's to be expected when the government is run by a child."

_I would never say anything like that. I would never try to pin the blame on anyone else; I own up to my actions. How can people just ignore that? How could _anyone_ mistake these actions as being mine?_

Even as the terrorist impostor continued his speech, Squall suddenly felt very sick. He placed a gloved hand over his mouth as the contents of his stomach lurched up, but he kept them at bay, no matter how much he wanted to just let it out. He braced his right hand along the wall beside the window as he kept his left hand firmly positioned in front of his mouth before swallowing as quietly as he could muster. The bitter taste of bile clung to the back of his throat, but it was a full minute before he removed his hand from his mouth. He had to breathe through his mouth for a couple of minutes and he was amazed that he hadn't been discovered as of yet.

Chancing a look around the crates he was hiding behind, he realized that the guy had left; could hear the thud of footfalls heading up onto the deck before the door slammed shut. Squall took a couple of steps out from his hiding spot and waited, just in case the man was coming back. When that didn't happen, he stepped out in front of the television, staring at the image of himself that projected right back at him, trying to discern any differences that could be caught by the naked eye; anything that could easily disprove this man's claims that he was Squall Leonhart.

After a moment's inspection, he gave up, frowning thoughtfully as he did. It was almost like he was looking back at himself in his own reflection. The only thing he could spot was the occasional shift in the impostor's right hand – it was possible this impostor was simply ambidextrous and less used to using his left hand. It would explain the killings, but it might also serve as a measure to prove his innocence.

So why hadn't anyone spotted it?

He sank back down onto the ground, unable to comprehend that the impostor looked so much like him. With everything he was saying, he should have been caught, but a sudden realization dawned on him that made him feel even sicker.

What if _they_ didn't realize the same things he did?

Anyone else would have thrown the idea away in disgust, but Squall knew that it was possible. Since Ellone had left the orphanage, he'd built himself with his own idea of what strength was and had alienated those around himself in fear of losing that strength – the knowledge that one had to look out for themselves.

He'd done such a good job that, twelve years later, when he wanted to stop, he found that he couldn't. It had become part of his daily routine to the point where he couldn't break himself of the habit. Even as he wanted to let others in, that part of him inside – the part that still cared what everyone thought of him; the part that he hated about himself – was still very wary about any kind of contact.

But it looked like that specific trait of his was going to be his downfall; because he never let anyone else see who he really was, they believed the impostor's portrayal of him to the point where they believed he'd orchestrate the deaths of others; that he'd launch missiles and unsuspecting cities and work with terrorists to oust a government nearly two decades into the making.

He was stuck; the impostor had all the cards, and he couldn't reveal him to be a fake because no one would believe him.

This whole mess was something he'd gotten himself into, but he would be damned if he just lay down and let them get away with it. He had to come up with some method to clear himself and take down the terrorists. Obviously it was going to be difficult; everyone would be out for blood after this second attack. He was almost grateful he'd been unconscious when Trabia had been destroyed; he had no idea how he'd have reacted had he seen the terrorist then.

Because if he couldn't, they were all screwed.

* * *

**01:09:01**

* * *

Selphie and Zell both exchanged glances as they entered the Commander's office. The Commander himself seemed to have just finished up with something and rose to his feet, ushering the two to come in. Commander Greenwood then moved around his desk and closed the door behind them. "Please feel free to take your seat. I've alerted your squad leader that you may be late for departure and she has agreed to wait until you arrive."

"Uh, sir?" Selphie started hesitantly. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course, that's why I called the both of you here." The Commander said before taking his seat.

"Yeah, about that…" Zell said.

"We were somehow able to prevent the rest of Garden from witnessing it, but we'll have to announce what happened soon. It just makes the question I need to ask the both of you more important."

"What happened?" Selphie asked.

"The terrorists went through with their threat." The Commander said evenly. "They launched a missile strike again; this time hitting a town on the peninsula north of the Galbadian Capital."

Selphie's eyes widened and Zell's jaw dropped before they exchanged glances, even as the Commander continued. "So far, the Galbadian and Dollet forces are heading for ground zero. They're hoping for survivors but after what has happened thus far, they're finding it difficult to be optimistic. Garden has been ordered to resume the evacuation procedures rather than assist with the rescue efforts."

"So why'd u call us in for?" Zell asked finally.

The Commander leaned forward, clearing his throat with the action. "By now, we all know who is responsible for these actions; he even admitted it himself in front of everyone. I need to know if either of you are prepared for this. I would completely understand if you wanted to back out of this mission, but I need to know now."

"Quite frankly, sir," Selphie said out of the blue. "I'm not even sure it was him."

Zell stared at her like she'd just grown a rattle-snake for a head. "The hell are you saying?"

"Oh, come on, Zelly!" Selphie huffed. "He's the Commander; he might as well know the truth." She turned back to her superior before sighing. "It's just that if he did what he did, then it means he tricked everyone, including us. It's kinda hard to swallow and I hope he wasn't really responsible. But all the same, it's a mission and, feelings aside, we have to investigate, so I'm in."

The Commander nodded after a moment before turning on Zell. "What do you think?"

"Anything's possible," Zell said. "But Selphie's right. He's still considered a friend of mine and I'd hate to know that all along it meant nothin'. But orders are orders, so I'm going too."

"You're positive that you're each comfortable with this?" the Commander asked and both SeeDs nodded.

"If anyone has to bring him in under suspicion, then it might as well be us." Selphie said.

"I sincerely hope that you're up to the task." The Commander said as he rose to his feet. Selphie and Zell both followed suit. "I suppose the only thing I can do is wish you luck. Don't make your squad leader wait anymore than she already has."

"Sounds good to me." Selphie said as she fell into a salute. Zell followed suit before both turned and left the room.

When they climbed into the elevator, the door closing behind them, Zell pressed the button to the first floor before whirling on the younger girl. "Just what the hell was that?"

Selphie shrugged. "If Squall's out there, then he's gonna need some help, right?"

"Right," Zell said, unsure of where this was going.

"And if there really is a mole in the Garden and they were listening in on our conversation, don't you think they'd somehow find a way to stop us?"

"Also true," Zell said. "But that was the Commander. He wouldn't have stopped us."

"Right now, he's totally convinced that Squall's a traitor." Selphie argued. "So if he knew that we didn't really wanna help bring him in, he wouldn't have let us go on this mission. So if we were sent out, and _we_ were the ones to find him first…"

Zell didn't need to be told the rest; he finished the sentence for her. "Then we'd be able to keep him outta sight of the rest of the SeeDs and come up with a plan."

Selphie nodded. "Exactly."

"And you couldn't tell me this earlier?"

Selphie sighed. "Because we were surrounded by other SeeDs; they could have listened in. Then we got called up by the Commander, so we couldn't talk about it and risk Xu of all people overhearing us."

"Good point," Zell said. "So do we tell the others?"

"We let them in on the idea, yeah." Selphie said. "We gotta tell them that we're heading off on an evacuation mission as well, so obviously we can take the time to mention it. But we gotta make it quick; they'd get all suspicious if we took our sweet time."

Nothing else was exchanged for the remainder of the elevator ride.

* * *

As soon as they'd left his office, Conrad nodded to himself. He'd called the pair not only to question them about this mission, but to gauge their reactions to it. Obviously it'd come as a shock, but in all honesty, Conrad had to make sure that they didn't know more than they should. Judging from Dincht's expression, Tilmitt's response had been completely unexpected; a sign he could trust the loud mouth brawler to do as ordered. Tilmitt was a little iffy in that department, but he figured she could also be trusted… to a degree.

Fortunately, one of his personnel was on their team, so he'd be able to keep an eye on them – in case either one of them had any second doubts. He wasn't at all convinced that it would be a good idea to give them the opportunity to locate Leonhart, but he figured that if anything happened, he could just say that they were involved with the attacks all along.

Suffice it to say it'd be difficult to prove Tilmitt – with her reaction to Trabia Garden's destruction – was capable of such an act, but he figured he could pull it off. He'd turned the world against Leonhart, hadn't he?

Conrad frowned the moment he thought of Squall. He'd arrived at the Garden as a pre-teen, when the Adelists had first learned of Garden's existence. Back then, Garden had been little concern to worry about, but nevertheless had positioned their personnel – himself included – inside just in case they needed them. It proved to have been an invaluable decision.

But still, even with his mission in the back of his mind, Conrad had found that Cid Kramer, the man who had created Garden in the first place, had been an understanding man. It'd been a shame to see him impeached, but the man was becoming a hindrance to the plan. The fact that he'd allowed Almasy into the Garden had been his only useful action – they'd been searching for Almasy for the better part of four months now.

But while Cid appeared to be fair, even he had chosen his favourites. No amount of explanation could excuse the number of 'chances' Almasy had received and the amount of encouragement Leonhart received despite never responding favourably. Neither one were worthy of his favour, and it had sickened him when he slowly began to realize it.

When he had rejected the notion of sitting behind a desk all day and ordering soldiers about, Leonhart had instantly recommended Conrad for the job. He had thought this was his chance; not only was it a favourable decision for the mission, it would prove his own worth in the eyes of the one man he had always defended as fair. There had been talks about getting rid of the Headmaster, however Conrad had always defended him; explaining the man's usefulness and the response should such a thing come to fruition.

He'd actually _saved_ his life by forcing the elder man into stepping down.

But hearing Cid defend Almasy, yet again, had almost made him wish him dead.

Now that he knew where Almasy was, he could deal with him at any time – so long as it wasn't traced back to him. He'd just received word from the forces in Trabia that Leonhart somehow managed to escape them, and now they had no idea where the SeeD was. Honestly, Conrad had no idea what the higher ups were thinking; it'd be better to kill the man than risk him ruining their plans. He'd given his men specific instructions to kill upon sight and to make it seem as Leonhart fought back. With Christopher Cobatchi acting the role (and a fine job he was doing at it), there wouldn't be anyone around to dispute it.

Except, of course, Almasy.

Even now, Conrad wondered if Almasy had managed to get to someone with whatever information he'd been gathering on the laptop that had been confiscated. Not for the first time did Conrad wonder why Almasy was really there. Sure, Cid had said he'd wanted the teenager to have redemption, but that couldn't have been the only reason. Cid was a smart man; he didn't do or sacrifice anything without good reason. It made Conrad that the more suspicious.

In his mind, both Almasy and Leonhart were loose cannons that needed to be dealt with. Leonhart could be taken out at any given moment, but with Almasy in the Garden everyone would immediately begin to suspect that there was a mole. He couldn't risk that; he'd have to make it look as though it were either an accident, or an intruder broke into the Garden. It was the only way he could keep himself from persecution.

Almasy would have to wait for a while; but that didn't mean he couldn't keep tabs on him. Besides, whatever he thought he knew was merely speculation; if he'd had anything concrete, he would have confronted him when he'd first been caught.

Getting back to drafting reports, Conrad's mind was far from his work.

* * *

Upon getting out of the elevator, Selphie and Zell immediately headed to Quistis' room. To make it less conspicuous, Zell left the elevator first, heading along the left hand side to the dorms, whereas Selphie took the right path along the infirmary. At least then if they were being followed, whoever was tailing them would have to split up or give up. If the tail continued, one or the other would spot it upon reaching the dorms.

Zell figured the plan that Selphie had come up with was pretty good despite the lack of time. Find Squall before the others while they evacuate the cities and towns, and find some way to contact the others securely. Quistis' cellphone was about the only secure line he could think of aside from her dorm phone, but even then it could be traced or tapped into. Zell hoped that if it did come to it, they would at least be conspicuous about it.

He and Selphie met up in front of the hallway to the dorms, minus a tail. Making absolutely sure they weren't being followed, they headed to Quistis' room, knocking three times on the door after a few minutes of walking. When asked who it was, Selphie enthusiastically answered, and the door slid open for the both of them to enter. Quistis locked it behind them as Selphie asked the question before him. "What'd we miss?"

"We know now," Rinoa said from where she sat on the bed. Her legs were folded underneath her and her hands were planted at her ankles. Irvine was sitting in front of Quistis' computer, Seifer close enough by on his laptop.

"Rinny!" Selphie whooped and jumped up onto the bed – much to Quistis' protest – before hugging the former resistance member. Rinoa had no choice but to reciprocate the action, even as Zell watched Quistis frown; the sheets on the bed were coming out from their tucked in formation and Zell sincerely hoped the elder girl wasn't going to have a cow.

Then again, if it had been his room…

"We can't stay for much longer;" Zell remarked. "We gotta get ready to head out on our mission."

"Classified?" Rinoa asked after Selphie released her.

"Yeah, but we're gonna tell ya anyway." Selphie said, shrugging. "I came up with an awesome plan."

"'Sides," Zell added. "It's not like it's all that classified."

"So what's up?" Irvine asked.

"We're doing some evacuation work," Zell said. "All over the globe the cities are evacuating so they won't get hurt by another attack."

"And how does Selphie's plan come into this?" Quistis asked.

"If Squally's still out there somewhere and we go on this mission, we can be on the lookout for him," Selphie said. "Which is technically what we were ordered to do, but we can look out for him in a totally different way than what the other SeeDs would be doing."

Seifer cracked up as soon as Selphie started talking, but quickly tapered down to the occasional snort and snicker. Most of the others ignored him, but Rinoa turned her cool glare onto him. "I see you're still an asshole, Seifer."

"Can't help being what I am," Seifer sighed, still snorting in amusement.

"The way we see it," Zell added, ignoring Seifer's commentary. "If we find Squall before everyone else, we can find out if he got any additional information and then go from there."

"Uh huh," Quistis said, her eyebrow raised. Zell could tell she wasn't completely convinced. "And if it turns out it's the impostor?"

"Oh we'd know that for sure the instant he started shooting at us." Selphie said nonchalantly. "And we'd contact you guys when we could find cover and separate from the rest of the group."

"So it's not absolutely perfect," Zell said. "But it's pretty good considering Selphie thought it up on the spot."

"I think the Commander was a bit suspicious though," Selphie said. "He called Zelly and me to his office."

"Where the hell do you come up with these nicknames, Messenger Girl?" Seifer finally asked, craning his neck back to look at her.

Selphie shrugged. "I just think them up."

"Why did I ask?" Seifer retorted. "What did the dumbass want?"

"Seifer!" Quistis snapped. Seifer ignored her.

"He asked us if we were okay with going on a mission if it meant there was a chance we'd run into Squall."

"What'd you say?"

Selphie shrugged. "We told him we didn't wanna believe he was a terrorist, but that we were willing to do what we had to, even if it meant to bring him in."

"You guys should have seen the way she acted," Zell said. "She even told them that it'd be better if it was one of us who brought him in if it did turn out he was guilty."

Seifer simply shrugged and went back to what he was doing as Irvine whistled. "Nicely played. Add a touch of truth to a hint of lie."

"No applause please," Selphie said, grinning from ear to ear. "I embarrass easily."

"But what if Squall's actually dead?" Quistis asked. "If I were a terrorist, the first thing I would do, if I had someone impersonating a potential threat, would be to get rid of said threat."

"He's not dead." Rinoa argued. It almost chilled Zell with the amount of certainty that was in her voice.

"And what if he is?" Quistis shot back.

"We don't have to worry about the 'what if's'." Rinoa responded. "Because he isn't."

"Rinoa, you have to think objectively," Quistis sighed. "As much as I don't want him to be, it's still a possibility. The terrorists aren't stupid; they've proven that much already; so why would they let a loose thread run around."

A buzzing noise sounded from beside Quistis' computer and Irvine picked up the former Instructor's discarded cellphone from the nightstand it sat on top of. He checked the number before tossing it at Quistis. "Don't know who it is."

"I could be Xu or someone," Quistis said as she caught the device.

"Wouldn't it have come up?" Zell asked.

"No; I didn't program her phone number into my cell."

"Why not?" Selphie asked.

"In case I was ever captured on a mission and they wanted to go through my cellphone. I don't have any numbers programmed and whenever I receive a call, it automatically removes itself from my viewers list." Quistis smiled when she saw the expression on everyone's faces. "I did it that way on purpose. Custom made one of a kind."

Seifer muttered something; Zell could have sworn he'd said 'rich bitch' or something to that extent, but he wasn't about to comment.

"Still, Quisty's got a point," Irvine said, even as Quistis flipped the phone open. He kept his voice down just in case it turned out to be someone they didn't want overhearing what he had to say. "If he's dead, then the whole plan falls to pieces."

"So what?" Rinoa shot back. "The terrorists simply want Esthar and they got Squall out of the way because of what? He's simply a potential threat? And Squall actually let it happen? I find that very difficult to believe."

"Oh my God…"

Everyone's attention turned to Quistis and Zell noticed that she'd just gotten really pale all of a sudden. She held the phone loosely in her right hand and her jaw was slightly slacked open. When there was a lack of noise, Seifer even whirled around to see what had happened. "The fuck's wrong with you?"

"Yeah, Quistis," Zell piped up. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I might as well have," Quistis said numbly. She looked each of them over for a minute before swallowing and sitting down onto the bed.

"So who's on the phone?" Selphie asked.

If it was even possible, Quistis turned an even lighter shade of pale before she answered. "It's Squall."

* * *

He hadn't thought this was a good idea, but it was the only one he could come up with.

Squall had run through a ton of options in the last few minutes, but hadn't been able to come up with anything better. He frowned; he didn't like the chances that it would blow up in his face, but in all honestly it sucked less than any of the other ideas that had come to mind.

All he had needed when he'd finally decided to go through with it had been a phone, but he hadn't exactly been able to keep his cellular – that was sitting back in the Estharian prison's confiscated goods.

Which was bad; he actually liked that phone.

He'd looked all over, hoping that the worker who'd joined him a little while ago had been careless enough to drop his, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. He couldn't find one; not even a phone that reached to the upper level of the ship.

He'd been just about ready to give up on that plan when he'd remembered the crates scattered around and had searched through all of the detailed statements located along each side to find out what exactly was in the boxes. It had taken maybe five minutes before he'd finally realized that the one he was carrying around had only been skimmed.

Two minutes after that, his hands were sore; the gloves he wore were now pin needles thanks to the splinters from the wooden parcels, but he was several disposable phones richer. He'd never thought he would have been any happier to see a phone.

Still, he needed to be careful – in case he received any more visitors.

The final step had been simple enough; he had to choose someone to call. His team was definitely a choice, but the only problem was the security of their phones; Garden might have chosen to tap the lines just in case.

Well, it was simply a risk he was going to have to take.

He remembered that Quistis' phone had some kind of security measures installed to make it more difficult to hack into; the memory card forgot phone calls the instant the call was disconnected, and she didn't have any phone numbers programmed into the device anyway. As much as he would have rathered to call Rinoa, he couldn't trust her phone; with its loud ring tone and the fact that she left it out where someone could just walk away with it (that had almost happened one time at a restaurant, but Squall had been quick enough to catch the perpetrator and get it back).

Thankful that he'd managed to remember the number, he dialled and placed the listening piece to his ear, hoping that his former instructor hadn't turned it off. He was awarded for his optimism; the phone was ringing. He figured he'd just pay for whatever outstanding long distance charges she'd receive for this. Hell, if she even believed him, he be willing to pay for _any_ charges for a month.

After the third ring (_what is taking so long,_ Squall thought to himself), she finally answered. "Yes."

"Quistis, I know this is going to sound crazy, but do _not_ hang up the phone." He said the line so quickly he wondered if she could discern anything outside of her name.

No one answered and, for a second, he thought she had been caught in a meeting. Cursing his timing, he could vaguely make out other voices, but they were too far away to actually make out properly. Quistis must have been covering the speaker with her hand. He could hear the phone being moved around and had to hope for the best.

Finally, he could hear voices, though they were much clearer than they had been a moment ago. Just as he was about to say something, he was forced to move the phone away from his ear as everyone started talking all at once. The words tangled themselves up into incomprehensible jargon and Squall had to look around in case someone was coming down to investigate. "I can't understand you if you all talk at once."

Everyone shut up at that point and Squall was almost disappointed when the silence greeted him. He figured this was a sign that they expected him to say something. "I'm not sure how to say this, or whether you're going to believe me or not, but here goes." He took in a deep breath, released it slowly and then said the words he didn't think he'd ever have to say in his life. "…I need help. I'm in trouble and I don't know how to get out of it. Whoever you saw on the television or whatever wasn't me, and…"

"Squally, we know all that already!" Selphie sounded and for a second Squall thought he'd heard her wrong. "We were hoping you'd be able to tell us something new."

As soon as the words translated their meaning to his brain, Squall felt the weight on his shoulders lift and he slumped onto the ground he had been standing on. He sighed in relief; they actually believed him. It surprised him; he couldn't even begin to fathom how they'd even come to that conclusion. Maybe he'd underestimated them. "How did you…"

"We gotta admit," Zell's voice sounded loud and clear. "it was a little touch and go at first, but we figured it out. First we thought you were dead, then the only other option was that you really were doing all this, which was slightly better than you being dead, but not really."

"So much has happened already." Irvine said. "Quistis thought you'd died when we figured out it was an impostor."

"So did everyone else," Quistis said, sounding slightly defensive.

"I didn't." Rinoa's voice came on and Squall couldn't believe how much he'd missed hearing her or any of the others for that matter.

"We gotta apologize though," Zell said. "Everyone but Rinoa thought you really might have been a terrorist, and—"

"Not you're fault," Squall cut him off. "But we can talk about that later. What's happening so far?"

"Well, how much do you know?" Zell asked him.

"That there's someone masquerading as me shooting missiles and blowing stuff up." Squall deadpanned. "He's already destroyed Trabia Garden and some town outside of Deling City. I don't know exactly how the terrorists got their hands on missiles, but I do know that Garden's at least banded together and is looking for me. How did you figure out I wasn't really a terrorist?"

"You mean how did _I_ figure out you weren't a terrorist." A familiar voice sounded in the background and Squall froze for a minute. It couldn't have been who he thought it was.

"Seifer's back, Squall." Quistis said, answering the unspoken question. "Like Irvine said; a lot's happened."

Instantly recognizing the grimness to her tone, Squall realized that their news couldn't wait. "What exactly _has_ happened?"

"I hope you're sitting down," Quistis began.

* * *

**01:18:32**

* * *

He watched him remove the sunglasses, knowing that the news he brought wasn't good. Judging the expression on his long-time friends face, he understood the repercussions of this evidence, but all the same it was important.

"It confirms that Harold Schipner is a traitor," Kiros explained solemnly. The rest of the council was watching for the President's reaction. "The rest of it is garbled, but if we have to I can get the communications department to look into it."

"I don't think it'll be necessary," Laguna said, equally grim, as he placed the object – the evidence – atop of his desk. "This implicates Harold Schipner in the terrorist actions that took place this morning. As it stands, his last known location was in the Bika Fields. Alert the teams to this information and have them be on the lookout. We'll search Trabia if we have to; even if it's only for a clue as to where he could've gone."

Kiros nodded and turned to leave when he stopped. He turned back around and sighed before speaking. "If I may, I'd like to request the glasses back. You can keep the memory card; but I think Agent Logan's girlfriend would want them back."

"I can respect that," Laguna sighed, nodding knowingly. "Drop the card off to evidence then return the glasses. I don't see much else we could do with them anyway."

The younger man nodded in response before leaving the room.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, but he allowed the perpetrator inside anyway.

SeeD Agents Williams and Corrinth entered the room, both standing at attention until he nodded his head, signalling for them to stand at ease. "How is the search coming along?"

"So far, no leads have come up." Corrinth stated. "Ever since the Estharians invaded almost twelve hours ago, there hasn't been a single attack."

"It's as though they've gone into hiding." Williams explained. "Which makes sense; what with everything that's happening."

"All the same, we doubled the number of soldiers patrolling the city." Corrinth said. "The police are lending their services to assist in the search, but if they've gone underground, I doubt we'll find them."

"Good job," President Caraway said. "Any sign of the terrorists from today's attacks?"

"No sir," Williams answered. "No sign of Leonhart either. It's like he's disappeared without at trace."

"But we know otherwise," Caraway pointed out. "Keep looking. If we don't find him before the end of the hour, another city will be hit. Also, SeeD personnel will be arriving soon in order to assist with the evacuation efforts. I want the both of you to help them in any way you can while keeping on the lookout."

Both SeeDs saluted and when Caraway nodded once again, they left the room. Caraway sat at his desk, his elbows propped up on the surface with his hands tucked beneath his chin. It seemed suspicious to him that the terrorists who had been trying to kill him for the last two months suddenly stopped their efforts. Of course it took time to regroup, but it seemed too convenient; almost as though they'd expected something like this to happen. Even with the description of one of the terrorists they'd still come up with nothing.

Both SeeDs next course of action would be to contact their commander and to report their findings; at least that's what he'd ordered of them. He just hoped it'd be enough for now.

* * *

They'd only just gotten off the phone with Squall – as much as no one had wanted to end the conversation – and had gotten back to work. Selphie and Zell had headed off to meet with their team at the Front Gate to leave on their mission, while Seifer had continued gathering whatever he could in order to locate the mole. Quistis herself was working on her own little project.

Having elbowed Irvine out of her spot, the elder girl opened up different pages to a program she'd been working on for the last couple of years. Now was as good a time as any to field test it.

Before leaving, she'd given Selphie and Zell listening devices in the shape of ear buds. It went underneath the ear pieces each of them would be wearing in order to contact with their Squad Leader – a nifty little invention of Esthar's. However, all they had to do was type in an alternate frequency number that Quistis had already given them and they could connect with her whenever they had to. Her dorm phone would serve as a kind of service line, as would her cellular. As well as being able to contact her, each little device had a tracking signal; which she could pinpoint all over the place and display their location on her computer screen.

Quistis stretched her arms above her head and sighed contently. It really did pay to shop in Esthar.

Squall had mentioned something about disposable phones he'd managed to get his hands on (Quistis didn't want to know from where), and Quistis was counting on him contacting her as soon as he got off the boat in Dollet. She'd be able to map out places he could lay low until one of them could get close enough to meet with them. Selphie and Zell – as it turned out – were headed too far west of Dollet, so he'd just have to stay put until they could get closer.

She just hoped no one else found him until then.

Now all she had to do was somehow pinpoint Squall's location.

Aside from the program she was experimenting with, she was also attempting to hack into the database of Dollet's satellite system. Since she knew Squall would be in Dollet, the least she could possibly do was to keep tabs on him. Even as she continued with her own operations, she glared at Seifer from the corner of her eye; she'd asked him if he'd be able to, but he'd claimed he had his own operation to work on, and the only reason he knew so much about what was happening was because he'd gotten nosey.

Quistis knew it was because he was being annoyingly stubborn about it.

If there was a mole in the Garden – which would make sense given the circumstances– then it meant the two instances were connected.

"Glaring at me won't make your workload disappear, Instructor," Seifer remarked, his attention solely fixed on his own monitor.

Quistis smiled sarcastically at him before rolling her eyes and getting back to work. It was then that the phone rang and Quistis nearly jumped out of her skin. Irvine was the only one who seemed calm about it – Rinoa had nearly jumped a foot in the air when the noise broke the silence.

Irvine quickly picked it up, despite Quistis' protests not to, and answered ever so calmly, "Quistis Trepe's phone, Irvine Kinneas speakin'. How can I help you?"

He signalled for everyone to quiet down even as he subtly switched to speakerphone. He held the hand piece against his shoulder, attempting to make as little noise as possible.

"Oh shit…" the voice on the opposite end muttered and Quistis recognized it; it was Ezack Williams. But he was stationed in Deling. "I thought I'd dialled the right extension."

"Told ya you should've checked the directory!" the other voice – recognized as Talle Corrinth – said.

"Damn," Irvine drawled on, winking at the girls. Quistis immediately realized he'd had something to do with it. "I hate it when that happens. Once, I was tryin' ta call Selphie to ask her out, and I ended up talking to someone else instead. Let's just say I started a fight and—"

"Tell us more about that later," Ezack said. "We need to speak to the Commander."

"I'd be happy ta send along a message. Not like I got anything else ta do."

"I'd prefer to speak to the Commander…" Ezack insisted, but Talle said something in the background. Ezack must have put the phone down, because they couldn't really hear much about it but after a minute, Ezack came back on. "Okay, I'll leave a message, but can you put Quistis on? No offence, Irvine, but I trust her more than you."

Irvine shot Quistis a dirty look – though Quistis could tell he was only playing around – before he sighed as though he were resigned to a horrible fate. "Alright. I'll get her attention."

He placed his hand over the speaker of the base of the phone before looking over at Quistis, who by then had swivelled her chair around with her arms folded across her chest. She was shaking her head at his performance and the former Instructor could hear tell Rinoa was trying to stifle her laughter. Seifer was watching this performance with a half amused, half annoyed expression on is face. "Quistis," Irvine said; his palm over the speaker muffling the sound. "Phone's for you; sounds important!"

Quistis waited – Irvine raised his hand and held a signal for her to do so – before he gestured for her to say something. "Irvine, what are you doing answering my phone?"

"Sorry dawlin'," Irvine responded. "Couldn't resist."

He dropped the signal and Quistis moved towards the phone, placing her hand over the speaker – like Irvine had – and holding it there for another moment. Rinoa had grabbed one of Quistis' pillows and was attempting to smother her laughter. Counting backwards from three, Quistis prayed this would work as she removed her hand from the speaker. "Learn some manners already. Hello; sorry about that, what is it?"

"Dialled the wrong extension," Ezack's voice sounded. "Hey, we need to get back to work, so can you deliver a message to the Commander?"

"What's Irvine doin' in your room?" Talle's voice sounded in the background.

Irvine slapped himself in the forehead – apparently he hadn't thought of that – and Rinoa – who had only just recovered – had to stifle her laughter once again. Quistis managed to compensate, shooting Irvine a look as she said, "Selphie's on a mission somewhere, and he got bored and decided to bug me. Not like I don't have things to do myself," she raised the volume to the end of the sentence in order to drive her performance home. "And as for the message, I have to go speak with him about something anyway, so what is it."

"Notify the Commander that something's up in Deling. For some reason, the terrorists who were trying to kill the Galbadian President have stopped. It could be because their attempt was foiled earlier, but the President isn't all too certain of that. "

"I know it's not any of my business," Quistis said. "But what makes him so sure the attacks should still be happening?"

"Probably because everyone else's attention is stuck on the attacks in Esthar and the bombings that happened afterwards." Ezack responded. "Either way, it doesn't sit right with him, and I'm inclined to agree."

"Ezack thinks they might be connected," Talle said and Ezack hissed for him to shut up. "That both sets of terrorists are in league with one another."

Seifer perked up, but said nothing. Quistis decided she'd have to ask him about that later. "Alright, I'll let him know."

"Thanks Quistis. You're a life safer."

"Just make sure you dial the right extension next time." She said before the two SeeDs hung up. She waited a moment before disconnecting the speakerphone and placing the receiver back onto the base.

Irvine applauded. Rinoa put the pillow away and was grinning as she jumped in – the first time that day Quistis'd seen Rinoa smile since the beginning of this whole thing. "Nice performance. You've been practicing."

"Not really," Quistis shrugged before heading to the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Seifer asked.

"To the Commander," Quistis answered. "I've got to report this."

"Unless you see a reason not to Seifer," Rinoa pointed out. "she's got you there."

"I say wait." Seifer remarked, leaning back in his seat. "if you tell Connie, then he'll assume Puberty boys involved somehow. It won't do a damned thing."

"Connie?" Quistis asked raising an eyebrow.

Seifer appeared thoughtful for a moment before going on the defensive. "Stupid Messenger Girl's getting inside my head! I'm comin' up with stupid nicknames!"

"I guess Seifer has a point though," Rinoa shrugged while glaring at his comment about Selphie. "The last thing Squall needs is more accusations against him. Maybe we should wait."

"And if Ezack and Talle call back before we tell the Commander?" Quistis argued.

"Relax," Irvine said. "The phone's still rigged from before. Any incoming calls will go straight to your phone."

"Which reminds me," Seifer said. "I need you to change it back to the way it was."

Irvine's relaxed expression changed to a blank one. "But if that happens, then they'll get talk to him. That'll defeat the purpose of getting to them first."

"Which is why I want you to rig the phone so that we can listen in on their conversations." Seifer explained. "That way, no one becomes suspicious, and we're still getting the 411 on the situation. You know; the stuff the higher ups won't divulge until they think it's necessary."

"That does sound like a good plan," Quistis nodded reluctantly. "We might even be able to warn Squall if SeeD finds him before we can."

"Then it's good as done," Irvine said as he moved over towards the phone once again.

Seifer raised an eyebrow. "One more thing; I didn't think you were smart enough to know how to rig a phone."

"Well, I _am_ a sniper after all." Irvine said as he started to work. "And you gotta be smart to do that; know lots of math, have some kinda street smarts, that whole thing."

* * *

**01:30:56**

* * *

The docks, normally bustling with activity, were all but silent in the night; the frater boats arriving from various different locations stopping off at the harbour town to either refuel or to ship out their crates and other various equipment that needed to be transported. One man – a heavy set man who appeared to be in his early forties – directed the traffic (so to speak) from the boat that had just arrived, signalling when the man on the crane could lower the crate lift to the wooden platform. The lift was covered in mesh wire, so if there was an attempted burglary, the assailant wouldn't be able to get his or her hands on the cargo.

The crate was lowered, and the mesh wire was removed carefully before the man headed off to grab the cart that would transport the goods to the beach. When he came back, he and his buddies helped him life box after box onto the cart, each of them complaining about the weight of the packages. More boxes were heavier than others but they assumed it was the packer's fault.

As soon as the first set of crates were moved to the beach, the movers began this cycle again and again, making sure that each and every load was done precisely, so as not to damage the goods.

After the third run, one of the boxes opened and Squall crawled out as quickly as he possibly could. He'd managed to stuff as many of the disposable phones as he could into his jacket, but that wasn't very many. Before the movers could get back, he made his way up towards the stairs and up under the bridge, keeping out of sight as they movers continued what they were doing.

As soon as he ducked into an alley, he had to figure out just what it was he was going to do now. Now that he was in Dollet, he had to somehow make rendezvous with the others. Unfortunately, until either Selphie or Zell showed up somewhere close by, he had to sit idle and wait for them to get to him. He didn't know if he could wait that long; depending on who found him first might result in a premature relocation.

So he decided to keep as inconspicuous as possible.

He'd already ditched the black snow pants back on the boat – they were in the box he had been hiding in – but he couldn't get rid of the jacket; he'd lose the phones. He'd have to figure something out; maybe make a swap with someone wandering around here. He'd have to make sure it was dark.

It was then that he recalled the bag he had strung along his side. He quickly opened it up and moved as many of the disposable phones as he could inside of it. Afterwards, he continued down the cobbled street, and dumped the winter jacket onto a homeless person he was passing by. He didn't stick around for gratitude and continued on his way.

Being autumn and so close to the ocean, he was a little cold and folded his arms across his chest to keep warm. The black sleeves of the undershirt weren't doing much to help, and he'd wished he'd taken Edna up on her offer to borrow a sweater. The boots were comfortable, despite the fact that Edward's feet were bigger than his own, but it'd have to do. He couldn't get rid of the toque – no matter how much he wanted to – it served as a means of somewhat covering up his scar. Even if it didn't do a complete job, he could still keep his head down and hope that no one recognized him. The brown vest's collar should do the trick.

Dollet hadn't changed much since the last time he'd visited. The town held a rustic style that didn't go unnoticed. The buildings were older than most were used to nowadays. The transportation was electrically run, but a lot of the townsfolk preferred people-powered instruments such as bikes or carts. That didn't mean the majority were like that however, which was why there were cars lined up along the side of the road – older modeled cars, but cars with motors all the same. There was even a street car service that ran to almost every part of the capital of the dukedom.

Fortunately for him, the street cars were still running at that hour. The only problem would be if he could get on. If he played his cards right, he just might be able to.

The street car pulled to a stop at the appropriate spot, but no one came out, which annoyed Squall but didn't hinder him. He'd just have to go for plan B if he couldn't pickpocket the patrons getting out. So he climbed aboard and searched his pockets, knowing full well that he had no wallet on him. "Dammit," he muttered, loud enough for the driver to hear. "I… I lost my wallet. This is just great…"

"I'm sorry sir," the driver said. "But I can't let you on if you don't have the fare."

"You're serious?" Squall asked, trying his best to look agitated. Judging from the expression on the driver's face, it was working. "You're gonna make me walk all the way to the other side of town? I don't believe this," he huffed as he jumped back down onto the street. "I don't believe this…"

He made to move away, and counted back from three before he heard the driver respond. "Okay, okay." He said. "I'll let ya on this once. But don't go telling anyone; I could get into serious trouble."

"Thank you," he said as enthusiastically as he could while climbing aboard. "You don't know how much this means, really you have no idea."

"You new here?" the driver asked as he closed the door and started the street car.

"Yeah," Squall said, hoping that this man wasn't exactly chatty. He didn't need another Riley. "Just moved here from Balamb a couple weeks ago. Don't know anyone around these parts."

"I hear ya." The driver said. "When I moved here three months back, I got lost. One of the drivers on the highway was nice enough to spot me and give me a lift to the hotel where I was staying." The man began to chuckle as he spoke.

Squall nodded in response and went to find a seat; preferably in the back. He saw a few other people sitting down as well; a young woman wearing a beige coloured spring jacket and a couple making out in front of the double doors in the back exit. Squall moved past them and sat in one of the double seats, looking out the window as he began to think about his next move.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but soon enough the street car stopped and picked up a group of people (Squall assumed they were out on the night). By then, the streetcar had become more crowded and the couple making out had moved from standing to sitting in the seats just to the front of the doors. The group moved closer to where he was sitting and when Squall looked up to get a look at them, he looked right back down when he caught the Id of one of them. They were SeeD.

He cursed his luck and tried not to draw too much attention to himself, even as they sat up ahead – far enough to be just in front of the back doors but close enough to make out his features if they looked at the right moment.

Balling a fist, Squall positioned it over his mouth, continuing to watch the buildings pass by as they continued to move. He looked to the SeeDs direction a little more than he should have, but by then he knew he couldn't stay on the streetcar for very much longer; they'd find him out sooner or later.

The streetcar stopped and went again, picking up more people who moved even closer to him. Squall didn't recognize them; he was more concerned with the SeeDs who were continuously surveying their surroundings as they were trained – probably at Galbadia Garden; they were close enough to Dollet for it to be convenient. Even still, the new strangers sitting close by gave him the feeling that he was being tailed somehow. It couldn't be possible; no one outside of his team and Seifer knew where he was.

Unless he'd somehow screwed up.

He cursed under his breath and was quick enough to cover it up by clearing his throat. If they really were a tail – which meant they were working with either SeeD or the terrorists, then he would just have to lose them.

He rose to his feet slowly, trying not to get anyone's attention onto him (by then the SeeDs had kept looking in his direction and were muttering something to each other). He made as though he were heading to get off, only to change his mind at the last second, and unhinge the emergency window in the very back.

The driver must have seen him from the rear-view mirror, because he called out for him to stop. The SeeDs saw what he was doing and rose to their feet, as did the other guys, but by then they couldn't do anything as Squall jumped out the window and rolled out into the middle of the street.

Cars that were driving at the late hour were forced to stop as Squall pulled himself up onto his feet, honking noises filling the quiet night. Quickly darting across the street, he further disrupted traffic by running out in front of cars and climbing on top of the hoods in order to get away, the SeeDs quickly giving chase once they'd left the streetcar.

Darting into an alleyway, Squall took the moment to catch his breath and examine his arm – which was sore from the fall. It wasn't broken, but that was the least of his concerns; he needed an escape route.

That was when he noticed a really tall guy leaving a motorcycle along the sidewalk on the opposite end of the alley.

Squall didn't need to be told twice; he ran forward, grabbed the bike and placed the helmet over his head. He cursed when he couldn't find any keys, but he managed to find an old coat-hanger instead. Unbending the object, even as he heard the SeeDs shouting that they couldn't find him, he managed to open up the ignition. Placing both index and middle finger together, Squall let a bolt of lightning spark the ignition and then all of a sudden, the bike was running.

Who needs keys nowadays, anyway?

Squall revved the bike twice before taking off down the street. He swore he could've heard the owner of the bike shouting after him, but by then he didn't care.

Until he heard the sound of motors chasing after him on the vacant street about a minute later.

He looked back to see two motorcycles giving chase and cursed, turning his attention back to the road. He couldn't help but wonder how he was getting out of this one.

* * *

"That asshole just stole my bike!" a big man shouted, having darted out of a bar just in the nick of time. His voice was deep and he spoke with a foreign accent.

Dennis looked in the direction of where the guy was pointing and grabbed his motorcycle – stashed in the alleyway like a normal person – and drove off in pursuit, as did his partner, Janine.

They'd been on the streetcar when the kleptomaniac had climbed aboard, claiming to have lost his wallet. It was all he could do to pretend to be making out with Janine instead of keeping his attention focused on him. But then the SeeDs from Galbadia Garden – the ones _he_ was supposed to be keeping tabs on – had to climb aboard and scare the fucker. The rest of his partners had come on soon enough and that was enough of an excuse for Leonhart to pull a fast one.

Now all they had to do was lose the SeeDs and capture him.

He looked behind him and noticed that the others were joining in on the pursuit. No doubt Leonhart would catch on soon enough.

* * *

"Oh shit," the man said as he spotted more bikes chasing after the thief. While any normal person would have been relieved (albeit worried) about it, this man was downright terrified. That hadn't been part of the plan at all.

He heard movement from behind and turned around to see a girl in a beige coloured spring jacket running up to him. Her hair was covered by a wide-brimmed hat and she wore really big sunglasses. Her skin – in contrast to his own – was a very pale white that suggested she preferred moon bathing to sun bathing.

He signalled her over and in a couple of seconds, she was standing next to him – his height of 6'5" overshooting her 5'4" easily enough. She didn't have to say anything; just shoot him a look.

"He made off with the bike, alright," he said, interpreting the expression on her face. "But I made so much noise the people after him are gainin'. Had ta make it look good though."

She gave him another look and held out her hand, as if expecting him to give her something. He sighed and handed her the mobile phone she'd loaned him, but when she looked at it, she glared at him, holding it out for him to see.

He looked at it and realized (with a sinking gut) that it was his own phone.

"MINE, WHERE?" she demanded.

He searched himself, just in case he'd forgotten to put the phone in position, but came up empty. He sighed, knowing what was next. "In the bike?" he answered timidly.

The girl simply jumped up and slapped him upside the head. "CALL! NOW!"

"Alright, alright," he said, fumbling to use his cellular and dialled a number. As it rang, he began his tell-tale protesting. "Sheesh, it was an accid—OW! Why do ya always gotta hit so hard?"

"DUMBASS!" she shouted, hitting him again.

* * *

The sound of a phone ringing disrupted the silence in the air and Quistis went to check her mobile. Irvine and Rinoa did the same, but it was all three of them who stared at their blank screens in confusion.

Seifer cleared the air for them. "Relax, it's mine."

He pulled out his own cellphone and flipped it open in order to answer it. The moment he did, the ring tone stopped, but it was far from silent, even as everyone exchanged glances. "What is it?" he asked.

He didn't answer for a little while, except with the uh-huh one would hear as an affirmative. After a moment, he finally used real words. "It's okay, he can handle it. So you guys made contact?" Once again, he paused as the voice on the opposite end spoke. "What do you mean there was a problem?"

Another pause and then, out of the blue, Seifer burst out laughing; having to hold onto the desk for support. A moment passed and he doubled over in the chair, the others staring at him strangely. It took a couple of minutes for the laughter to taper down before he finally said anything else; the voice on the opposite end so loud they could hear him protesting intelligibly. "'Course it's not funny; it's fucking hilarious!"

He paused again before speaking again. "Tell her not to worry; we'll get it back – or at least we'd better. Good job; I owe ya one."

He hung up the phone before whirling on the others. Rinoa could tell they were all wearing expressions that told the former knight that they had no idea what he had been talking (or laughing about). "Okay, Puberty Boy's got a bike, and a phone. We can track him using the GPS."

Quistis stared at him like he'd sprouted wings all of a sudden. "How did Squall get a phone?"

Rinoa had a suspicion, and it was confirmed when Seifer flashed them all a grin. "Raijin says hi."

"What's Raijin doing in Dollet?" Rinoa asked, though she had to admit it was pretty clever.

"I sent him and Fujin there," Seifer answered as Quistis moved to her computer to start tracking him. "when I heard there was gonna be a trial in Dollet. Told them to make sure nothing happened to the evidence."

"I thought this whole thing isn't any of your business." Quistis shot at him.

"I did it 'cuz Cid asked me to, _Instructor_," Seifer shot back. "It was a guess and I figured Fujin and Raijin could use the travel, so I told them to go."

"So Squall has Raijin's phone?" Rinoa asked.

"You see, that's why I was laughing. Raijin was 'spose to put his phone in the dash where Puberty boy would take that as well, but instead he put Fujin's in and," Seifer caught the expression everyone was shooting him and immediately change the direction of the conversation. "none of you really care what happened because he's got a phone we can track him with. Got it."

He swivelled around in his chair, muttered something uncomplimentary, and got back to whatever it was he was doing. Rinoa stifled a snicker; she had thought it was funny – she'd glared because of his nickname for her boyfriend.

"Alright; he's in central Dollet," Quistis announced and both Rinoa and Irvine stood over the Instructor's shoulder as she continued. "It looks like he's heading northbound – I thought we told him to stay where he was."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Seifer said, whirling back around in his seat. "He's being chased by guys who don't look like they're SeeDs and guys who do – Raijin's words, not mine."

"And you _forgot_ to tell us this?" Quistis snapped.

"Hey!" Seifer said defensively. "It's not my fault you cut me off from telling you my funny story."

"That would explain why he's heading north," Quistis muttered before turning her attention to the computer monitor.

"Relax, like I told Raijin; he can handle it." Seifer said. "Hell, if he can whoop my ass, he can handle those SOB's. Or at least he'd better be able to."

* * *

"You've found him?" Christopher asked, rising to his feet. He'd already called his superiors to alert them about Almasy, but knowing that they'd managed to pick up the trail on Leonhart was great news in itself. It looked as though things were going his way.

Though they announced they'd located him in Dollet, which meant that the team in Trabia must have lost his trail and allowed him to escape. But it didn't matter to him; so long as he was caught. Sooner was the better alternative. "How close are you to him?"  
"We're chasing him down the street!" the operative responded. "He's had a head start though; the klepto stole a bike."

"That's not surprising." Christopher stated with a verbal shrug. He'd read his file after all. "Just get him before you draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves."

"I think we already have," the operative said and Christopher's confident smile fell.

"The hell do you mean by that?"

"SeeDs from Galbadia Garden are tailing him as well."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was. We're hoping to lose them before we capture him."

"Good," Christopher said. "The plan'll fall apart if SeeD apprehends him. Make sure you lose them soon."

"Will do sir," the informant said before the connected was cut off.

* * *

**01:39:21**

* * *

He looked behind him quickly before turning his attention back onto the road. He'd been right to believe the strangers who'd gotten on the streetcar right before he'd pulled his escape had been following him; they even had bikes just in case he'd pulled this stunt!

He figured he'd been watching too many of Selphie's action movies; it was starting to look a lot like one of those car-chase scenes she was always cheering about.

He gunned the engine and continued on; having already stashed the cellphone he'd found into his jeans pocket. It'd make contacting the others a little easier if he didn't have to continuously find inconspicuous places to discard the other phones.

But riding around on the main streets was going to draw some unwanted attention and Squall realized he'd need to lead them someplace desolate and then lose them. Not exactly the brightest of ideas, but the absolute last thing he needed was to get other people involved.

So at the first junction he could see, he made a sharp right and headed towards the highway.

Aside from its rustic design, the highway was Dollet's highpoint, filled with curved and long stretches of road that could prove dangerous for racing. Many people had attempted drag races and had ended up in the hospital or worse. Squall just hoped that whatever good luck he'd had up until this point would hold out; at least until after he lost his pursuers. He revved the engine again and took off, turning left sharply at a curve. The sound of engines behind him told him he was not alone.

A glance behind told him they were closing in.

As they continued along the road, a Cliffside began to form to his left and he moved away from it so they couldn't corner him. The chain – tied to his waist since leaving Trabia – would come in handy if he could get them closer.

Of course, if he pulled it out now, they'd know what he was planning, and he couldn't have that.

So when the first rider pulled in close and attempted to take him out, Squall lowered his right hand and concentrated on his stock of magic. Fire began to dance between his fingers as a ball of the element formed in his palm and before the rider could do anything about it, he tossed it; watching the fire-ball burn into the front tire of his pursuer. He rode up a little further ahead so he wouldn't get taken out by the attack and heard a crash from behind; figuring that the biker had either crashed into the cliff or into his partner.

He was prepared to do the same to anyone else when a chain wrapped around his neck and cut off his air supply. In shock, Squall reached up to disassemble the object, only to quickly grab a hold of the bike with his left hand. The action prevented him from ramming a car from behind; instead, he swerved around it and accidentally broke off a rear view mirror along the side of the vehicle.

Cursing at the pain in his leg, he turned to his right to see what the chain was connected to; a female biker this time who looked as though she thought she was in control of the situation. To prove her wrong, Squall – his hand still encased with the fire spell he had been preparing – grabbed a hold of the chain with his right hand, wincing slightly as she tightened her hold. The fire absorbed itself into his hand and when he touched the metal, it extended towards where the girl was holding her end and she yelped in pain when the element finally reached her. She released her hold on the chain and spun out, her bike falling on its side and tossing her into the middle of the road.

Loosening the chain from around his neck, Squall inhaled sharply before deciding that her weapon was better than his; the chain was much longer and more designed for a fight than the simple bike chain he'd stolen. So when the next driver showed up along his left-hand side, Squall swung in that direction with his left hand – his right on the handle trying to keep the bike steady – and attempted to wrap the chain around the man's wrist. It didn't work; the chain simply hitting the biker instead. The guy cursed loudly before ramming his bike into Squall. The SeeD looked over to his right and saw the guardrail before his feet slammed the brake, forcing him to stop and the other biker to overshoot him. Squall didn't stick around long enough to see what would happen and sped off passed him.

As he passed the next junction, he cursed when he realized there was actual traffic in front of him; a couple of the old cars or pick up trucks in the near distance. He revved the engine for more speed and manoeuvred passed them, keeping an eye out for his pursuers.

One of the riders used the back of one of the cars as a ramp and flew up into the air, Squall barely managing the manoeuvre out of the way before they could land on him. This one had both male and female riders; the guy was driving and the girl shot something at him. Squall brought his left arm up to block and could only stare in shock when a chain of her own wrapped around his wrist down to his elbow. She pulled sharply, almost taking him off his bike, but the SeeD rooted his feet along the side, attempting to keep his balance. She pulled harder and Squall was forced to incline to the left. He caught the sight of a car nearby and manoeuvred the bike back underneath him, following the example the pair had shown him earlier and used the rear end of the car to ramp.

He rooted himself to the bike, hoping not to fly off in the attempt and then he was in the air, holding on for dear life before he landed in a relatively desolate spot. He heard a girl's scream and looked to see that the girl had actually held onto the chain. She climbed onto the back of the bike, and attempted to wrap the chain around his throat. Squall decided that was a bad idea and tried to get her off the bike, but she refused to let him.

It was then that Squall recognized her; she was a part of the couple from the streetcar who'd been making out. He hadn't even considered to suspect them as part of the terrorists. He figured he could either learn from that mistake or pay for it.

Finally, he managed to get her off the back of the bike and she slammed into the windshield of an upcoming car. She didn't move after that; having been rendered unconscious. The car itself stopped and threw her onto the ground.

Squall redirected his attention to in front of him before he realized he was heading straight into the rear end of a pick up. Thinking quickly, he pulled himself up, his feet on the back of the seat before jumping, the resulting explosion sending him flying into the air with nothing to support him.

Faster than he was sent flying, he realized he'd entered freefall. Without thinking, Squall grabbed a hold of whatever he could that would prevent him from becoming another splotch on the road and when he opened his eyes – he'd squeezed them tight after the explosion – he realized he was holding onto the side of an eighteen-wheeler. It probably held some kind delivery from Dollet, but Squall couldn't be bothered to care about that as he tried to pull himself up onto the top of the truck.

The hum of an engine drew Squall's attention behind him, even as the wind rustled the hair that was in his eyes – the toque could only do so much. The SeeD realized that more of the terrorists were closing in on him. Most of them had bikes, but there were some who were driving cars.

Though there weren't very much of them, it drove Squall to pull himself up fasted. He managed to miss getting hit with something hot and, when he looked to the side he saw a burn mark on the truck's side. He stared at it incredulously; the only people in the world who knew how to use magic were the SeeD, Estharian and Galbadian military. If Seifer was right about there being a mole in the Garden, it could explain how some of them were able to use spells, but Squall doubted they'd have cast anything if they didn't want to be found out.

So that had to mean everyone who was working with the terrorists had some understanding of magic – at least to be able to cast spells.

And now that he thought about it; a lot of the terrorists he'd run into up until this point were Estharian. The only exception was in Trabia, but it was very likely they'd just lived there for a while and adopted the accent.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He figured he'd have to let the others know when he got out of this mess.

But for the meantime, he had other things to worry about.

As he continued pulling himself up to the top of the truck, more spells and weapons lashed out at him, until he finally pulled himself over the edge. He sat in a kneeling position before pulling himself up onto his feet, where he could see more of the terrorists closing in.

A ball and chain hit the top of the truck and Squall backed up from it even as one of the terrorists climbed aboard. Deciding this was not a good idea, Squall moved towards the ball and chain and shot a bolt of thunder at it, hearing the terrorist scream and fall away. When the electricity had settled, he grabbed the weapon and examined it before tossing it at another terrorist who was almost at the very top.

Someone jumped up from behind and, upon turning around, Squall realized it was the other half of the couple from the streetcar. He held a baton in his right hand and charged forward with it raised in the air. Squall lost his footing as the driver swerved somewhat and fell into a kneeling position, causing his attacker to miss. When Squall went to throw a punch, however, the driver swerved again and it turned into a shoulder charge, nearly knocking the two off the top of the truck.

Squall rolled over the edge but managed to catch the side before he could fall, but when he looked up he saw his assailant had already managed to regain his footing. The attacker swung down, attempting to hit his hand and dislodge him, but Squall managed to move his hand out of the way, allowing himself to dangle from the roof of the truck. It was harder to keep his grip with one hand than it was two, and he was able to replace his free hand onto the side. He attempted to pull himself up, but was kicked in the face for his effort.

Blinking the stars away from his vision, he saw the terrorist raise his arms above his head for another attack. Squall caught something from his peripheral vision and when he looked he realized it was another bridge over head. He kept close to the side of the truck, even as the attacker was bounced off the vehicle because of the cement.

He stayed in that position, watching the terrorist land onto a car that had been tailing them before said car swerved, slamming into another vehicle and causing a pileup. Finally, the bridge was no longer overhead and Squall pulled himself back onto the top of the truck before crawling down over towards the front. In his mind, he figured this was a bad idea, but he needed to stay off the roof in case there was another bridge. Dollet seemed to be pretty fond of them.

He pulled himself right over the windshield, the wind almost pushing him against the glass and the driver – a heavyset dark skinned male – stared at him in shock; probably having looked away for a moment. The SeeD had noticed that the driver window was open, so he shouted as loud as he could over the howling wind. "I need to borrow you're truck!"

"I know you!" the man said through the windshield and Squall was surprised he could hear him. "You're that terrorist everybody's looking for." He immediately grabbed a hold of something from under the dashboard and when he brought it to his mouth, Squall realized with a sinking feeling that it was a COM system.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself back up and positioned his body along the side of the window, holding onto the roof for dear life. The man was just starting to make his broadcast when Squall kicked him in the side of the face. The man's eyes went wide for a second before he collapsed onto the steering wheel.

Opening the door quickly, Squall pulled himself inside, pushing the driver away from the wheel and veering away from the guard rail they were heading to. The area filled with the voice of the man's superior and Squall shut the machine off. He'd have to dump the truck somewhere; if it had a COM system, then it would have some kind of tracking system installed.

After a few minutes, he managed to park the truck along the side of the road. At this late hour, there weren't very many drivers, but Squall had to admit, even as he pulled the driver out of the truck and onto the side of the road, there were a lot more than he'd actually expected. When he made sure the man was alright and (reasonably) comfortable, he ripped out the COM system and laid it down beside him. There was no point letting himself get caught now.

Now he had another problem on his hands; he needed a new method of transportation since the bike he'd stolen blew up. The terrorists had also seen what he looked like, so he'd have to make some changes. He spied the unconscious driver and instantly knew the jacket he was wearing wouldn't do; it was far too big and would hinder him if he needed to fight back.

He searched the front of the truck and managed to find a shopping bag in the back seat. Wondering blandly why the driver had enough time to shop if he was on the clock, he sifted through it, hoping for some form of clothing. He found what he was looking for; a simple blue spring jacket. Pulling it on, he realized it was a little loose, but it was good enough. He could even figure out a method of hiding his cellphone in case something happened.

Speaking of, he needed to contact the others, make sure they knew he was alright.

Pulling out the cellphone – a light blue one – he dialled Quistis' number, hoping he hadn't caught her at a bad time.

* * *

"He's stopped," Quistis announced. "I think he's still on the highway."

"Which highway?" Irvine asked.

"The only highway," Quistis responded. "Dollet's only got one. They're doing construction for another one, though it's not finished yet."

It was at that moment a cellphone started ringing again. Seifer checked his before shaking his head and the others immediately checked there's. Quistis answered her phone and the ringing stopped. "Yes?"

"It's me again," Squall answered and Quistis sighed. For a second, she'd thought he'd been captured.

"I'll put you on speaker," the former Instructor said before pressing a button and putting it on its charger. "Can you hear me?" she asked.

"Yes," Squall's voice sounded and Irvine was quick to lock the door in case anyone heard them. "And before you ask, I'm…"

"Fine," everyone chorused and Quistis could tell Squall was frowning at them. "What's the situation?"

"Well," Squall said from his end. "I caused a pile up and knocked a truck driver unconscious when he was going to call the police on me. Other than that, it's not so bad."

"I'm turning on the news," Seifer said as he turned on the television. "You pick up Dollet channels on this thing?"

"Yes," Quistis said, snapping at him. "How far out of the city are you?"

"I'm still in the city. But I'm going to have to find some transportation out of Dollet."

"You sure that's a smart idea?" Irvine asked. "Sefie and Zell both know you're there; what if they go over to pick you up only to find that you're missin'?"

"The terrorists know I'm here; they probably reported back to headquarters. If I stay here, they'll just come after me again." Squall sighed on his end before speaking again. "Though I think I've narrowed down who these terrorists are."

"You're serious?" Quistis asked. "Who are they?"

"Most likely they're Estharian. They can use magic like SeeD can, and the only other people who can are Galbadian military officials or Estharians."

"But the Estharians stopped teaching their citizens magic when Adel's government fell." Quistis said. "It was believed that since most people blamed magic for causing the incident, it was best that only the government parties knew how to. Laguna, Kiros and Ward don't even know the secrets behind it."

"That's because the Galbadians didn't start using magic until after the Adel Wars," Squall added. "These people looked young; not as young as us, but not that much older."

"Could they be the last remnants of the former government?" Irvine asked.

"It'd explain why they want Esthar's government to step down so badly," Rinoa added. "It's because they want their country back."

"It also explains why they're after you so much," Irvine pointed out. "Weren't you the one who killed Adel?"

"It explains a lot, actually," Squall pointed out, avoiding the question. "How they still had officials in the current government and why they have the Intel they do."

"Damn Schipner," Rinoa cursed. He'd already told them about his part in the scheme.

"And if the kidnapping attempt in Esthar and these events are linked, it'd explain why they were after Elle," Squall pointed out. "Adel was after her because of her power, remember?"

"If they're Adelists, then it's probably not just Ellone's capture they're interested in," Seifer said. "If anything, they'd wanna take out the guy who started this whole mess in the first place."

"The one who trapped Adel and ended the war twenty years ago," Rinoa said in sudden realization.

"Oh no," Quistis said. "If today's events have just been in order to distract us, then it's very likely that they're main target is actually Laguna."

"We have to warn him." Rinoa said.

"Like they'll believe us," Seifer said. "We'll need proof. And, in the words of the Instructor, 'Because I said so' isn't exactly acceptable."

"Well need to keep an eye out in Esthar," Irvine pointed out. "But because we're all here, that's not very likely."

"I'll send Fujin and Raijin to check things out." Seifer said, immediately pulling out his cellphone. "They weren't nearly as well known as I was during the war, so as long as they keep their heads down and outta trouble, it should be okay."

"How soon could they get to Esthar?" Quistis asked.

"If they left now? Probably a few hours if not days." Quistis groaned in response and Seifer stared at her incredulously. "Hey, it's not like we have a lot of options here. It's as good as it's gonna get without letting someone else in on us, and the less people who know why I'm here, the better."

"So Raijin and Fujin will keep tabs on Esthar," Rinoa said. "It sounds good to me. "

"In the meantime, we have to contact Zell and Selphie," Quistis pointed out. "Let them know what's going on."

"Are you on your way now?" Irvine asked.

"I have to find transportation first," Squall said. "The bike I stole got totalled."

"Funny," Quistis commented with an arched eyebrow. "I thought you called it borrowing without returning?"

Seifer's face fell. "The bike got totalled? How?"

"Why would you care about the bike?" Squall asked curiously. Apparently, he was ignoring Quistis' comment.

"Raijin says hi," Seifer said. "But now I owe him a bike. Fuck…"

"Just get out of there," Quistis said, speaking over Seifer. "The truck is probably being tracked. We'll track you along the way, so keep your phone on."

* * *

"Yeah, if I find something else to use for transportation," Squall sighed. "I'll keep in touch." He hung up the phone and put it in an inside jacket. He'd have to figure out a way to keep that compartment hidden.

He knew he didn't have much time; the company that owned the truck would know that it wasn't moving. The fact the driver was about to call something in would make them all the more suspicious. He quickly moved to the back of the truck, prying the doors open to see if anything of value was hidden away.

As soon as the doors were opened, Squall's outlook on his luck changed.

The truck had been filled with motorcycles – ones that were probably being transported out of town. They looked like the ones he'd seen at motor races. Which meant they were probably faster and more durable than the average bikes.

Climbing aboard, Squall revved the motorcycle and rode out of the truck, turning the vehicle around and continuing to head north.

* * *

**01:50:33**

* * *

They had landed roughly fifteen minutes prior; much to Zell and Selphie's relief. From what they'd learned from the briefing, Systar was a pretty small country town; kind of like Winhill, but slightly bigger. The city was in the very center and the surrounding area was more of a forest. It was kind of like a hidden city.

Selphie wouldn't have been surprised if this was the terrorists' next target. It hadn't taken quite as long as she'd thought it would to get there, since Esthar donated some of their Airships for speedy arrival.

It hadn't taken much longer than that to get to the city; there was a dirt path leading to it through the forest. Now, they were overseeing the evacuation. Because they were pretty fast on their feet, both Selphie and Zell had been recruited to search the town for citizens who were either too stubborn or lazy to move or who didn't hear the announcement.

They'd already rounded up quite a few stragglers when they met up in the center of the town. "How much longer is this gonna take?" Zell asked.

"I don't know; why are you asking me?" Selphie asked back. "It shouldn't be too much longer now; people actually listened to the announcement."

Zell was about to respond when he caught some movement from behind Selphie. She turned around, and caught sight of a man looked around – almost as if he were afraid he was being followed – before moving ahead.

"Doesn't look like he's too concerned that the town might blow up," Selphie commented, to which Zell nodded.

"Think we should follow him?"

"Well, duh!" Selphie said as she ran up ahead; Zell following shortly afterwards.

* * *

"We just received reports that Leonhart was spotted in Dollet by Galbadian SeeD forces," Xu reported. "He managed to elude them, but he did steal a motorcycle. We're not sure what else was with the motorcycle, but he was last spotted heading north of the city. He might be trying to escape."

"Where is he now?" Conrad asked.

"We're not sure, but a truck driver heading in the same direction was about to make a call when he was cut off. A moment later, the tracking system inside the vehicle was tampered with. It's still operational, and the police are already on the way."

"Good. Keep me posted. I want to know the moment he's detected again."

Xu nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind her and as soon as he heard her footfalls grow faint, Conrad grabbed a hold of his cellphone, dialling a number and placing the receiver to his ear. He couldn't make any personal calls through the Garden line; someone might find him out.

He waited a couple of seconds before finally someone picked up. "I just received word that Leonhart is heading out of Dollet. A truck driver was somehow involved; he tried calling for help but Leonhart put a stop to that."

"Careful as always," Christopher said on the opposite end. Conrad pulled a fist and attempted to keep calm; just hearing Leonhart's voice was enough to make him snap. "But my men already know that he's got no method of transportation. Just keep an ear out for information of stolen property. As for where he is, it looks like we're both in the dark."

"I know I'm being impertinent about this," Conrad said carefully. "But why exactly do we want Leonhart alive? It'd just be easier if we killed him. That way, there wouldn't be anyone who could dispute your being him."

"That is none of your business," Christopher said with a sigh. "It's Tannel's orders, and no matter what, Leonhart must be captured alive. Am I understood?"

"Yes, of course," Conrad said. It was a lie of course; Leonhart was a disbeliever; what kind of purpose could he possibly serve to their cause?

"Good." Christopher said. "Now I don't want to ever hear you doubt Tannel again. I know it sounds confusing, Conrad, but if Tannel thinks this is a good idea, I'm with him a hundred percent. Do you get me?"

"Yes, I completely understand. I just think it would be easier if he were dead."

"Well, we're not the one's coming up with the targets or the objectives, so we'll just have to live with their decision." The last thing Conrad heard from Christopher was the click that meant he'd just been hung up on.

Conrad stared at his cellphone for a moment before flipping it closed and putting it away. "Sorry to have offended…" he muttered as he got back to work.

* * *

"Way to stand up for him," a voice from behind commented.

Christopher nearly jumped out of his seat before he whirled around to see Elaina standing behind him. Her arms were folded across her chest and she had a smug expression on her face. "You should get an award," she continued as he rolled his eyes and turned his back to her. "They should call it the brownest nose award."

"Fuck off, Elaina," Christopher all but snarled. "I'm busy doing actual work here."

"Work?" Elaina asked, coming up to his right hand side. "You mean sitting on your ass at these terminals and making hourly speeches for the world to hear?" she sat up on the terminal, despite Christopher's protests and eventually, he let his head fall into his hands as she continued.

"You're right. What you're doing sounds so much harder than actually searching the snow filled terrain for the sonovabitch you're trying to impersonate."

"Do you not understand what the term 'fuck off' means?" Christopher snapped.

"Of course I do," Elaina shrugged. "When a guy wants to get his rocks off, he finds anything with an asshole and…"

"You know exactly what I mean." Christopher whirled around to face her. "well, the guys in Dollet did what you couldn't; Leonhart was last spotted heading to the north; away from the city."

"Did they catch him?" Elaina asked.

"No, but it's only a matter of time."

"Yeah, right." Elaina said, standing up. "You know, maybe Conrad's right. He's pretty dangerous if left to his own devices. Imagine what would happen if he were to hook up with the rest of his team of idiots."

"He won't," Christopher said. "Because he'll be here before he can."

"And if he has already?"

"It's nothing we cant' deal with." Christopher waved off. "And even if we couldn't we'll just have to deal with it. Besides, this is Tannel's collar, not mine, so why does everyone complain to me?"

"Uh, let's see," Elaina said. "Maybe it's because this whole thing was your idea? You have some say over it."

"Yes, but the only reason Tannel went to the higher ups was because I said it was a sure-fire way of capturing Leonhart. If I backed out now, then this whole operation would've been for nothing."

"Look; I'm not trying to start a fight."

Christopher crossed his own arms in front of him and snorted. "Really; because it sounds like you are. Tell me something," he leaned forward, unfolding his arms and resting his chin on his fisted hands. "Are you jealous that I have a bigger role in this than you?"

Elaina's face turned pink and Christopher knew he'd hit the nail on that one. "Of course not!" she denied. "I'm just trying to sound sensible. As long as Leonhart's in the way, we can't move onto our main objective."

"Which is why we're trying to capture him." Christopher said.

"And what after that?" Elaina said.

"I don't know; Tannel's probably got something planned for him. Maybe to keep him out of trouble until we've achieved our goal."

"What if he escapes?" Elaina asked.

"Trust me," Christopher said. "With the package we have, we won't risk it."

"And if he does?"

"We get rid of the package."

"Oh my god," Elaina whined after a moment, running her hands through her shoulder length red hair. "This never would have happened if things had gone right two months ago."

Christopher froze in his seat before whirling around very slowly to face the other girl. He rose out of his seat and stepped up into her face before saying in a deathly calm tone of voice; "What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well," Elaina said and he could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "I just think that if things had gone according to plan, that we wouldn't have to worry about all of this."

"It's not my fault things got screwed up." Christopher defended.

"No one said it was," Elaina said, her tone of voice wary.

"Then why did you say anything?"

"Just commenting on our crappy circumstances." Elaina said. "And marvelling at how the great and all intelligent Christopher Cobatchi can make a mistake."

At this point, Christopher had Elaina pinned to the wall, his hand around her neck. "Do. Not. Mock. Me. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

He blinked and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, with a knife primed at his throat and Elaina pinning his hands behind his back. "You know," she said. "You always irritate me when you try to play the big strong guy. It's only because you're Tannel's favourite that I don't slit your throat right here for your arrogance."

She released her grip on his wrists and he sat back up, rubbing at them irritably. "It'll be about a Millions years before you could even dream about taking me on." She boasted. "And another Million before you dream of kicking my ass."

"Don't you have a job to do?" Christopher asked bitterly. Elaina always kicked his ass whenever he pulled shit like that; yet he always let her get to him.

"Don't you have a city to nuke?" Elaina shot back.

"Yes, and you're interrupting me," Christopher snarled. Elaina just laughed and headed towards the door.

"You know, you don't have to take everything so personally," Elaina chuckled. "You might even start to act like _him_ for real."

She closed the door just as Christopher grabbed a discarded piece of metal and tossed it after her in his frustration.

* * *

**_2:00:00_**


	13. Hour 13

**07/20/2007: **_In case anyone cares to know, Deilia's name is pronounced 'Day-Lee-Ah'. I thought it was interesting tid bit. _

_Also, sorry for the late update; life and writer's block is a lethal combination for a writer._

Chapter Edited: **08/11/2007**

* * *

**_The following takes place between 2pm and 3pm.  
_****_Events occur in real time._**

* * *

It was just coming up to two in the afternoon when Deb Packer jumped into her car. She pulled the safety belt down across her chest, pressing the blue sleeved shirt against her skin. It was too warm out for a jacket and her thin white skirt draped across her thighs comfortably enough. A sandal clad foot pressed against the gas pedal right after she put the vehicle to drive and pulled out of the driveway of her two story home. Her husband Shawn waved her on – having taken the day off – and she watched him return to the safety of their home through her rear-view mirror.

She managed to right her vision before screeching to a halt and cursing softly; one more second and she would've hit the tail-end of the car in front of her. She sighed in relief and waited for her nerves to calm before laughing lightly; it wasn't a funny situation, but the laugh helped to fill the tension in the air.

Ever since waking up at five in the morning, she'd heard of the attack that had taken place far earlier in the capital. She had almost decided against going into the capital to shop for some new clothes for the child in the backseat but had opted to proceed as normally as possible; after all, fear was intoxicating and she refused to rule her life by it.

She checked the back seat and smiled at the little girl sitting in the back seat in her safety chair. April had only just turned two that past Saturday, and she was growing like a bean stock, so it was time to get some more baby clothes. She knew the babe's size and what would fit her, but she thought it'd be good to take her out on a car ride.

Traffic was slowly getting tighter and Deb frowned thoughtfully; normally it wasn't all that busy on these streets; she'd found the street a perfect way of avoiding traffic when she was heading out of town. She was just about to turn on the radio – despite never believing in the news in the first place – when her cellphone rang. She touched a button and turned it on. "Hello?"

"Deb?" Shawn's voice came from the device and Deb raised an eyebrow. She'd only just seen him, so why would he call her? Did she forget anything?

She was about to ask him that very question when her husband cut her off, something he very rarely ever did. "Thank goodness. I need you to keep heading to the city, no matter how horrible the traffic is."

"I wasn't planning on turning around," Deb chuckled.

"I'm serious." Shawn said and Deb's smile immediately faded. "There was just a city-wide evacuation issued. Everyone is heading to the boarder and awaiting instructions from the military."

"I'm turning around," Deb said. "Get whatever you need packed; I should be back in five minutes."

"No," Shawn protested. "Just head to the boarder. I'll take the second car and meet you there. Besides; the longer you wait, the harder it'll be to get past the gridlock."

Deb didn't like this; not one bit, however just as she tried to turn back, a honking sound came from behind and she checked the rear-view mirror, noticing with dread that she'd almost backed up into a car. She checked either side and realized she was packed in like a tin of sardines; she couldn't go back, despite how much she wanted to.

The baby hiccupped, startled by the sudden movement and Deb turned around, cooing at her and sending reassurances that things were alright. When the baby settled, Deb turned back around, hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

She was about to respond to her husband when she saw something coming towards them at a distance. It looked like a black speck in the horizon, and she climbed out of the car in order to take a look. A lot of the other drivers were doing the same; some of the passengers staying inside of the car awaiting news of what that black spec was. Deb didn't want to take any chances and opened the rear passenger door before bending down, arms stretched in order to release her daughter from the restraints of the safety chair.

Just before her fingers could unlock the straps, however, she heard a scream. She jumped, hitting the back of her head against the roof of the car and pulled herself back out of the car, rubbing the back of her head gingerly.

But she froze when she saw that the black spec had gotten a lot closer.

People were beginning to panic; abandoning their cars and running in the opposite direction and after a moment, Deb realized why.

She was staring at a missile.

She was suddenly knocked onto the ground by a passer-by and it was quickly scrambling to her feet that prevented her from being trampled to death. Immediately after pulling herself back up, she reached into the back of the car again, struggling with the strap that would have normally been easy to unhinge, only the contraption seemed to want to be difficult. April, sensing her mother's distress, took in a deep lungful of air and proceeded in wailing her little eyes out.

Deb cooed her, trying to still the sound, but found that she was beginning to panic like everyone else. She tried to unlatch the seat from the back, but she found those controls were stuck as well. She cursed, bitter tears streaming from her eyes as she attempted to release her daughter when her thumb must have hit the right switch. The straps disappeared and daughter was in mother's arms as she pulled herself out of the car…

…only to have a missile whirl passed her and hit a stack of cars behind her.

The resulting explosion shook the ground, bringing Deb to her knees, toddler still in her arms. Then the ground surrounding her turned dark, and Deb looked behind her in time to watch two of the cars falling straight towards her.

* * *

The small town of Corel – located north east of the Estharian capital and close to the mountains – was reduced to rubble before the eyes of the world, the holographic projections or other monitors being the eyes of the devastating attack. When all was said and done and the smoke cleared away, there was an empty silence before the screens shut themselves off.

Apparently the terrorists weren't open to repeating themselves a third time.

"We were only just beginning to evacuate Corel, sir," Deilia offered, but she understood that it wasn't good enough. The town had a population of nearly ten thousand regularly. A good portion of military troops had been sent over in order to assist with the evacuation as well. Judging from the latest reports they'd received from Trabia, the prospect of survivors was dimming.

Still, the President nodded in response to her comment, if only mechanically. He had a strange look on his face; one that she'd never seen on him before, but had seen on many others in her lifetime. It was the look of despair; of surrender.

However, before she could say anything, Jared spoke up. "You can't be thinking of doing as the terrorists say."

"What other choice do we have?" President Loire snapped. "Too many people have died as it is, and I refuse to let it happen any longer."

"But if you step down, then the terrorists win." Christine interjected. "And we don't even know they'll stop if you remove yourself as President; we have no guarantee of that; just that more demands will be made as soon as the first ones have been met."

"I don't like it either, but I don't see any other options."

"Sir, if I may," Deilia spoke, directing everyone's attention towards herself. She sighed; James was much better at this kind of thing than she was. That was the reason he was the Chief and she was his second. "The other option we have is finding these terrorists. There has to be some detail we've overlooked, or some Intel that just hasn't shown up yet."

"I'm not willing to gamble people's lives just to hold out for some more Intel." President Loire sighed before continuing.

"I think we might have a clue," Deilia continued. "The purpose for those missiles is to hit as many targets as possible, with as many casualties as possible in order for us to give into their demands. But we didn't go live with an order to evacuate the surrounding cities; we did it subtly in order to avoid panicking the people."

"I'm aware of the reasons why we did it the way we did." The President sounded exasperated. "They were my reasons."

"Yes, but if we do have a mole, then it has to be someone aside from Schipner who has access to this kind of information." Deilia said.

"That narrows it down," Christine said sarcastically. "Soldiers, the cabinet, security detail; anyone who is working closly with this investigation would have that kind of information."

"So maybe it's someone working for the government, like Schipner was." Deilia suggested. "Maybe someone higher up in the chain of command or even someone who has access to this kind of information. I suggest we run a search of anyone who falls into that category. We might find something there."

"And if we don't?" the President asked.

Deilia hesitated. He did bring up a good point. "Then we find some other way. SeeD is probably still working on this, as is the Galbadian government. They might find something that we miss. If they're still working on this, then why should Esthar have to give up?"

The President frowned thoughtfully and Deilia frowned internally. She hated it when he donned that expression; it was difficult to read him when he did. He could either be accepting or dismissing this whole notion and she wouldn't know until after he'd made his decision and announced it to everyone.

"Alright," he said at great length. "Conduct the search. I want everyone searched, with no exception. That includes myself, Kiros and Ward. I want to know who this mole is and how they're getting the information they are."

Deilia nodded and saluted her superior, smiling internally. It didn't look like the President was going to even consider surrendering anytime soon.

* * *

"Report!" Ariel "Riel" Sanders said sharply into her head set. As the squad leader, it was her duty to make sure her people were reporting their progress. Unfortunately, they hadn't been doing much of that.

Honestly, Riel couldn't blame them, what with everything that'd happened up until that point. She'd been one of the (large) number of people in the Garden upset when Squall Leonhart had stepped down from his post as Commander, and the knowledge of his being a terrorist hadn't come easily to her. After all, if he'd been a terrorist, staying in command would have been the best option.

But as the messages had been shown, she'd found herself doubting that logic. The one way a mole would pretend not to be a mole, they would do things that would take the suspicion off them. It was a possibility. It was still difficult to accept though; he'd been a hero in everyone's eyes.

Even if he had been reluctant about it.

"Eastern sector has been cleared!" one of her team members answered shortly after her own inquiry.

"Southern's clear too." Another one reported.

"Same with North-east." The third one said.

Riel frowned when no one else reported. She'd completed the Western sector, but both Dincht and Tilmitt had been placed in the North. The fact that they weren't reporting in was concerning, especially since they both had been friends with the traitor. "SeeDs Dincht and Tilmitt, respond." She tried, but received no answer.

"Alright everyone; keep an eye out for Dincht and Tilmitt; make sure they haven't run into any trouble. If any of you spot them before I do, report to me immediately. I want to know why they've gone silent."

* * *

**02:06:02**

* * *

Three people moved quickly and quietly through the streets, keeping an eye out just in case they were being followed. After a while, they approached a building, one of the three opening the door leading inside, while the others acted as look outs. A minute later, they all entered the building, the door closing behind them.

Selphie and Zell both ducked out from around the corner, relieved that they hadn't been caught. For civilians, they were acting like they were hiding something, and both wanted to know exactly what it was. Both had just gotten off the line with Quistis, who'd filled them in on the specifics. It looked like their following the civilians would make the perfect excuse to stall until Squall arrived. But what they were going to be doing after that was another story.

"They did sorta look out of place here," Zell remarked and when Selphie gave him a questioning expression, he clarified. "Those guys we're following. You know, kinda like tourists."

"It'd be the perfect cover," Selphie agreed. "Let's go find out what the big secret is."

Zell nodded and both of them headed towards the building. Both stood against the wall on either side of the door once they arrived, Zell opening the door quickly and pulling out the .9mm he had tucked into the waistband of his pants. A flashlight dangled from the left – also attached to his waistband – but he didn't draw it – probably didn't need it thanks to his junctions.

Selphie waited for his signal before following after him, closing the door as gently as he could. They proceeded down the hallway as quietly as possible before they noticed a set of wooden double doors in their path; the only path the civilians could have taken.

Zell tried the doorknob; it was locked.

"So we kick the door in?" Selphie asked.

The brawler shook his head before fishing into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He grabbed some kind of card and, wedging it between the doors, moved it around between the cracks before an audible clicking sound broke the silence. After that, the door swung open. "More stealthy that way."

"Who are you and what have you done with Zell Dincht?" Selphie joked. Zell didn't respond, but the two of them continued on their way, Zell placing the card back into his wallet.

There was nothing but an open space below them; they were standing on a balcony overlooking the ground beneath them. Selphie figured that the building was partially underground – kinda like the houses in Balamb Town.

Both she and Zell ducked down behind the banister, hoping that they hadn't been spotted coming into the building. There was a crack in between wooden panels along the bottom – probably a way to prevent someone from falling out from under the banister – and Selphie could see perfectly fine. She guessed Zell could too – he wasn't complaining.

There was a group of people on top of the three they were following standing in the very center – probably to make sure there wasn't anyone eavesdropping. Judging from the location, Selphie figured they could pretty much see everything. It was a good thing they'd ducked down when they had. The three people they'd been tailing were making their way down the stairs before they stopped where the others were.

"Wonder why they're meeting in the middle of an evacuation?" Selphie asked.

"Don't know…" Zell trailed off, but went silent after a moment.

"What?" Selphie asked after a moment.

"I know that guy," Zell said, his expression darkening as he pointed out. Selphie followed the gesture and noticed a man with dark coloured hair wearing the most hideous yellow shirt she'd ever seen, with a pair of white pants.

She stared at him for a moment before turning to Zell. "Did you tell him he's got really bad taste in clothes?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"He's a terrorist." Zell said, his expression serious. "He's one of the guys from Deling who were trying to kill Caraway."

"Huh?" Selphie said, taking another look. Not having been on the ground team like Zell was, she found herself at a disadvantage since she'd never seen him before.

"He put the bomb in the Hotel and was the contact from that cellphone Squall found at the scene earlier today." Zell continued. "He got away, but why would he be meeting here?"

"And why didn't he change clothes?" Selphie asked.

"I get it Selphie; his clothes are shit ugly."

"No!" Selphie said, though she couldn't argue that point. "I mean, if he was a wanted terrorist with people looking for him, wouldn't he have changed clothes to get them off his back?"

"Maybe he assumed we'd figure he'd change his appearance and kept it the same to throw us off." Zell shrugged. "It's a pretty simple tactic."

"Yeah, but not a commonly thought up one." Selphie mused. "What do you think he's talking about?"

"Can't hear very well from up here." Zell said at great length. "We'll have to go in closer.

"With no other place to hide, I guess that means subterfuge is over?" Selphie asked, to which Zell nodded.

"Let's rock and roll." Zell said.

"I'll distract them," Selphie said. "You get behind the guy with no taste." With that said, Selphie jumped up onto the balcony, removing the nunchaku that was strapped to her back and swinging it around. "Finally some action!"

With that, she used a cable line overhead and flung the nunchaku around it, so that each stick was on either side of the wire. Counting backwards from three, she flung herself off the balcony and, screaming from the thrill of the movement, glided closer to their location. She released both ends of the nunchaku, overbalancing the other side before she entered free-fall, releasing a blast of blizzard and fire spells as she moved closer to them.

The group of people – seven total, with two of them being girls – dodged the attacks, and Selphie figured they were no ordinary civilians. Mr. Yellow Shirt shouted something that sounded an awful lot like 'Get her' before making a run for it, but she ignored him as she landed in a crouching position, the other six people having her surrounded.

Normally, any other person would have started attacking the people around them, except Selphie simply held her hands above her head – almost as though she were casting a spell – and caught the nunchaku, swinging it over her head once like she'd seen Quistis wield her whip a thousand times, knocking a couple of her attackers off their feet. Only one of them got back up, but by them, Selphie was fending off the rest of the group; using her small size to an advantage.

All of the assailants were taller than her by at least a head, but that didn't intimidate her at all. If anything, her enemy tended to underestimate her because of her petit build, but like these people now, they always learned that Selphie Tilmitt was a force to be reckoned with. Jumping up onto her hands, she spun in a 180 degree circle, taking out three of her attackers before jumping up and swinging the nunchaku at the remaining two. One of them ducked, and the other was clubbed in the face by the stick ends.

Just as she was about to take care of the only one standing, she sensed something come from behind but could do nothing about it when she felt something hit her in the back. She cried out involuntarily, falling onto her stomach and turned around to see Mr. Yellow Shirt. He hadn't retreated like she thought he would; instead he'd just grabbed a hold of something heavy and hit her with it.

Now, said heavy thing was dropped and he pulled out a .45 Calibre from wherever it was he'd been hiding it, grinning as he aimed it at her.

Except Zell came to the rescue; jumping up onto the guy's back and forcing his aim to miss. Still, Selphie rolled out of the way, noting the bullet wound in the wood flooring, and used her legs to scissor Mr. Yellow Shirt's legs from under him. Zell released him just in time, but lunged over towards the final guy, knocking him clear in the jaw and sending him sprawling into a crate of boxes behind him.

Oops; guess there was another hiding spot after all.

Selphie grabbed a hold of Mr. Yellow Shirt as Zell whirled back. The blonde SeeD grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him close, Selphie not minding releasing the man as this action played itself out. "Hiya," Zell said, with a tone that didn't mean he wanted to catch up on old times.

"Oh," Mr. Yellow Shirt said. "It's Loud Mouth. Didn't expect to see you again."

Mr. Yellow Shirt got slugged in the face for that one. He spat blood onto the ground before grinning grimly. "That hurt."

"Yeah, no kidding." Zell ground out. "Too bad your body guards can't save you this time."

"As a matter of fact," Mr. Yellow Shirt said before snapping his fingers. He seemed a little too calm for Selphie's taste.

The sound of the man snapping was still echoing off the empty walls when three really big guys dressed in black and wearing black sunglasses emerged from wherever it was they were hiding. They made their way over towards Zell, who could only glare at them before directing his expression towards Mr. Yellow Shirt.

"I suggest you let me go," he said as he smirked. "Before my boys decide to use you as a punching bag."

Selphie immediately assumed her casting stance and three silver coloured clocks appeared – one for each body guard. The clock hands did a full circle around the guard's heads before suddenly stopping, the action sending a white light to shoot up from the ground. They made to protest, and were effectively stuck like that.

Selphie smiled sweetly. "They're taking a time out."

The smug expression on Mr. Yellow Shirt's face was priceless; apparently he hadn't exactly expected that kind of outcome. Zell blinked at her for a moment before redirecting his glare at Mr. Yellow Shirt. The latter didn't look so calm after that. "Don't hurt me!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He was shaking like a leaf.

"We'll think about it," Selphie said. "_If_ you tell us what you're doing here with these guys."

"I can't!" Mr. Yellow Shirt said. "They'll kill me if I do."

"Who's they?" Zell asked, getting into the guys face.

Selphie smiled and pointed at Zell, directing Mr. Yellow Shirt's attention. "I'd tell him if I were you. You might not end up dead, but you'll be reduced to something you'd find on the bottom of his sneakers."

"And you've already pissed me off _once_ today!" Zell snapped.

"Okay, okay!" Mr. Yellow Shirt said. "My bosses told me to attempt to kill the President in Galbadia."

"Old news," Selphie said, yawning for emphasis.

"I would get new orders each week on how to go about it," Mr. Yellow Shirt continued. "But as soon as the attack in Esthar happened, I got nothing."

"So they are connected." Zell said. "Your bosses were responsible for the attack?"

Mr. Yellow Shirt looked hesitant to answer, but one look from Zell changed his mind. "Yeah! Yeah, they wanted to frame some kid; keep him outta the way for some reason."

"Yep, that sounds like what happened." Selphie said. By making one of their own masquerade as him, Squall wouldn't be able to do anything on his own. "So why are the terrorists demanding that the Estharian Government step down?"

"I've already said too much!" Mr. Yellow Shirt said. "They'll kill me if I said anything else!"

"I think he needs a reminder of what'll be done to him." Selphie shrugged.

Zell pointed over to another set of crates at the far end of the room. "You see those boxes?"

Mr. Yellow Shirt nodded. Zell outstretched his free hand in the boxes general direction and, after a moment, a large bolt of lightning hit the wooden crates dead on; blasting them into smithereens.

Mr. Yellow Shirt looked like he was going to pee his pants.

"She asked you a question," Zell said calmly. "I suggest you answer it and stop pussy footing around the subject."

"Because the government is the one responsible for their suffering." Mr. Yellow Shirt answered. "They changed Esthar's way of life and they want it back the way it was…"

Mr. Yellow shirt paused for a moment, and Zell slapped him in response, which got him talking again. "Back in the days of Adel!"

Selphie gaped at him and Zell almost dropped him in shock. Both SeeDs exchanged grim expression; if these guys wanted Adel back in power, then it definitely explained why they were targeting the government. It also meant that anyone who was responsible for Adel's ousting from power would be a huge target.

That meant Laguna, Kiros and Ward were at the top of the list.

"Where's the next target of the missiles," Zell said suddenly, and Selphie realized it was a good question. Garden could get a head start if they knew where the next attack was going to be. "Where?!"

Mr. Yellow Shirt hesitated once again, but before Zell could slap some sense into him, he fainted open eyed. It looked as though the shock had gotten to him.

Zell dropped him in disgust and sulked; that was one piece of information they couldn't obtain.

"The bad guys are Adelists." Selphie said in numb horror. "That sort of explains everything."

"No it pretty much explains everything," Zell said. "Squall's the one who killed Adel; we helped, but he got the final blow in – to them that's all that matters. In their own sick little way, the frame up is also a part of their revenge."

Zell looked thoughtful for a second before directing his gaze towards the other SeeD. "Maybe they were planning on getting Adel back."

"Only we stopped them by getting rid of her." Selphie commented, nodding as she spoke. "The fact that he killed Ulti and just so happens to be Sir Laguna's son are just added bonuses. But how did they find out about that?"

"It's possible they only know about Squall's part in it and not about the rest of us," Zell said. "The media talked about it a lot after the war ended. He didn't say anything, but you know if had to have pissed him off."

"Or someone high up is a mole in Esthar."

"Could even be both."

"We gotta tell the others."

"But what do we tell the squad leader?" Zell asked. "This is proof."

"No, it's our word verses his." Selphie said, gesturing to Mr. Yellow Shirt. "If anything, we have to get him back to Garden and get him to repeat everything he told us."

"We'll have to take him to Galbadia Garden," Zell surmised. "It's closer than Balamb. The sooner we can clear Squall's name, the better for everyone."

Before Selphie could comment, Zell made a sound in his voice between a gasp and a squawk of surprise. Selphie turned around and eeped as well; the body guards were no longer stopped and were looming towards them, almost as if preparing to grab them.

Both SeeDs stumbled back, Selphie unhinging her nunchaku from her back and dropping into a defensive crouch, Zell doing the same (minus the nunchaku). However, before either of them could do anything, they suddenly stopped before dropping onto the ground, breathing lightly; almost as though they'd fallen asleep.

However, they didn't get the chance to check on them; standing behind them was Riel with an annoyed expression on her face. Her hand was outstretched – the only proof that she had been the one behind the guards' sudden collapse. She put both hands on her hips and glared at the pair of them. "Just what the hell is wrong with you two?" she snapped. "I've been trying to reach you, but neither one of you responded!"

Zell went white as a sheet and Selphie could guess she was very much the same. They hadn't received any kind of message from their squad leader, which probably meant that she'd attempted contact while they were talking with Quistis using the micro communicators. They'd counted on the squad leader being able to contact them and interrupt the conversation, but it looked as though the ear buds were still in its experimentation phase. They'd have to let Quistis know about it when they talked to her next.

"Sorry," Zell said before Selphie could say anything. "We weren't in a position to answer."

Riel's eyebrow raised. "Oh?" she said in a tone that demanded an explanation.

"Well, we were about to head back and report in when we spotted this guy," he gestured to Mr. Yellow Shirt, "heading away from the evacuation point, so we followed him, wondering what he was up to."

"And you couldn't inform me?" the Riel asked.

"Because," Selphie jumped in, seeing where Zell was going with this. "It was just a hunch; we figured that he was going the wrong way so we just went after him to let him know where we were evacuating everyone. But the guy was looking all over, making sure that he wasn't spotted, and that's when Zell said he looked familiar."

"You've seen him before?" Riel asked, directing her question to Zell, who nodded in response.

"He's one of the terrorists in Deling City; he was the one that got away before we got new orders at the Presidential Residence." Zell said. "We tried to get him to tell us why he was here, but he fainted."

"Why would he be here then," Riel asked.

"Coincidence?" Selphie suggested, but the other girl shook her head.

"No such thing, especially in this line of work. This is just a hunch, but he might be in league with both sets of terrorists."

"You mean they could be linked?" Selphie asked, to which Riel nodded.

"We'll have to take him back with us. I'll let the others know to keep an eye on this lot. It shouldn't be too much trouble."

"What about us?" Zell asked.

"I was going to report to the Commander for new orders since this place is pretty much evacuated, but this takes precedence over everything. If this guy is working with the terrorists from Esthar, _and_ he was part of the terrorists in Deling City, then it's possible that Leonhart was responsible for both. They could be linked some how…"

Zell and Selphie exchanged glances. If they let on what they knew, it could very well lead back the others. Besides, aside from this guy's testimony – which was hearsay since they didn't exactly trust him – it wouldn't be taken seriously at all.

"So we're going to make a side trip to Galbadia Garden." Riel stated after a moment's thought. "It's the closest Garden to our location and the sooner we get information from this guy, the better. I'll contact Balamb and alert them of the situation."

Zell and Selphie nodded. It was the perfect opportunity to intercept Squall on his way to Systar, but they'd have to somehow ditch Riel in order to make contact. As Riel went to make her call, Zell and Selphie activated their micro communicators for a call of their own.

* * *

The communication systems beeped and he picked it up after the first ring, not wanting to miss it. "Yes?" he asked.

"Sir," the voice on the opposite end said.

"Have you found him?" Christopher asked.

"Not yet sir," the voice answered. "We've only just been able to regroup outside of Dollet. I suspect that he's out of the city by now, most likely heading to the Timber area."

Christopher drummed his fingers along the surface of his terminal, a thoughtful expression donning his features. There were more cities around the Timber area, most of them just beginning to form now that the former resistance town was free from Galbadian control, and there were even some on the outskirts of Dollet territory. He had people stationed all over the continent, so it wouldn't be that much trouble to send out a group or two in order to intercept. Still, he had to ask himself what Leonhart was up to this time. The obvious course of action would be to leave Dollet, but as for where he would be heading, that was a different story. It could be anywhere for all he'd know, and he'd studied his behaviour in order to predict his every movement.

Desperate men seldom ever thought logically after all, and Christopher had no intention on playing guessing games. "We should assume that he left the Dollet borders shortly after losing your men. I'll send reinforcements from the surrounding cities in order to intercept, but do not lose him again."

"Sir, it's obvious that he's going to fight back." The subordinate complained. "He's already fended us off twice."

"As they say, the third time is the charm." Christopher stated. He didn't even bother to correct him about the number. "He might fight back, however we possess something in our favour. As long as he understands this, he will cooperate; it's not in his nature to risk sacrifices when it is not himself he is sacrificing."

"But will it work?"

"I've been studying this guy for the last four months," Christopher said, leaning back into his seat. "I can read him like a book. It'll work."

"Sir." The voice on the opposite end confirmed his order before the line went dead.

* * *

He hung up the phone, sighing deeply as he did. He'd just finished speaking to the others, asserting the plan of action. According to the others, Selphie and Zell were tailing someone in Systar that might have ties to the terrorists. He didn't know why they thought that, but he figured they knew what they were doing. Quistis had promised to inform him in case either one called back.

He'd also spoken to Seifer and, despite wanting to ring the elder boy's neck, he had managed to solidify his next step. As annoying as he was, Seifer could come up with a plan when needed, and he had a lot more battle experience, aside from Quistis. He knew what he was talking about in this kind of situation, and as much as he didn't like the idea, it was the best way to end this whole thing with as little casualties as possible.

He'd also been confided about something Seifer hadn't told anyone else, but Squall wasn't at all convinced by the other boy's logic. He knew there was a traitor in the Garden, but it couldn't be who Seifer thought it was. As much logic as there was, there just was no way it could be possible.

_Why's that?_ A voice in his head sounded. _Because you're not allowed to make mistakes about people?_

He squashed the thought with some difficulty, but he had to admit, he didn't really have much reason to disagree with Seifer's logic, such as it was. Still, he'd have to keep his head clear if he was to pull off the next step in the plan. If it went well, then they would have a huge advantage once this whole thing was dealt with.

He revved the bike and continued down the road, keeping an eye out for any possible attackers.

* * *

**02:19:34**

* * *

"SeeDs Dincht and Tilmitt managed to locate a man responsible for the numerous assassination attempts on President Caraway's life," A young woman reported to the commander. The voice belonged to the squad leader in Systar. Quistis, Rinoa and Irvine were keeping as quiet as possible, with Selphie and Zell on the line listening in as well. "It was based off a hunch, but in the end he may possess some information on his own terrorist cell, if not Leonhart's."

"Either way, it'll at least remove one problem from our plate," the Commander's voice sounded. "What is your current location?"

"Still in Systar, sir," the girl responded. "We're currently awaiting the rest of the team before heading to Galbadia Garden in order to interrogate the prisoner. The rest of the team will be standing by and awaiting orders from Garden on what to do with the remaining prisoners."

"Contact Galbadia; they're closest to your location. They can send their personnel in order to apprehend them all." The Commander said. "It was originally their mission to begin with."

"Understood."

"As for your current prisoner, I'll contact Galbadia Garden to alert them of your arrival. They'll be prepared for the interrogation."

"Yes sir." The girl said before the connection was terminated. Quistis hung up the phone very carefully before a thoughtful expression donned her features.

"So…that's pretty much what happened?" Irvine asked, the question directed towards the two SeeDs.

"Basically," Zell said. "But we left out what the guy already told us; that the terrorists in Galbadia and the ones from Esthar are connected, and that they're trying to bring back Adel's reign."

"I think we should have at least told them about the regime," Quistis pointed out.

"Nah, it wouldn't have helped." Seifer shrugged. She hadn't even been aware that he'd been listening. "They would've reacted like anyone if they heard these idiots were bent on bringing back the Adelist way of life; freaking out and denying the whole thing. The possibility is too horrifying for them to believe it. We'd need actual proof to shove down their throats."

"But if this guy tells them what they need to know, they'd have to believe him." Rinoa said.

"It's better for it to come out of the terrorist's mouth than from those two." Seifer argued. "If they said anything, SeeD would automatically assume that they were either in league with Puberty Boy, or that they were letting their emotions cloud their judgement. They did the right thing."

"That's reassuring, coming from you." Zell remarked bitterly. "So we just gotta get to Galbadia Garden and make the guy talk again."

"And if he doesn't talk?" Irvine asked. "I have faith in G-Gardens tactics at gathering information, but I doubt we'll get that lucky."

"It's okay." Selphie said with a verbal shrug. "If he doesn't cooperate, we can just let Zelly in the room. The guy was petrified of him."

"Can't be that much of a guy then, so standard interrogation tactics should be enough." Seifer remarked. Quistis intervened before it could get ugly.

"You'll keep us posted on the situation?"

"Of course, Quisty." Selphie remarked. Quistis frowned, but chose to ignore it.

"You can also meet Squall on the way." Rinoa said. "He's heading your way."

"Actually, I say meet back in Systar." Seifer said. "Stick with the original plan. Find some way to convince your squad leader to let you go back."

"Why should they do that if they have the chance to intercept one another?" Rinoa asked.

"Because the chances of him getting caught when the other girl is there is higher than if he were to head to Systar and wait for them there." Seifer remarked. "The evacuation was completed already, so there won't be anyone else to see him, and the SeeDs with the rest of the terrorists are heading to Galbadia in order to hand them off to the authorities there for interrogation. Makes more sense this way."

"That does sound like a better plan," Selphie mused aloud. "And we can always tell the squad leader that we'll meet back with the rest of the team and await instructions from the Commander."

"Then it's settled." Seifer said. "Problem solved."

Before anyone could question him, Seifer swivelled back around in his chair and got back to his assignment. Everyone present exchanged curious glances in response.

* * *

Conrad paced the length of the room, turning around whenever he reached the wall. He'd just told the SeeD to do what was standard and had alerted the Galbadian President on the situation, but inside he felt awful. If the prisoner were to talk, then there was a chance that the Garden would eventually discover his role; that it was him who was the traitor and not Leonhart. If that happened, Leonhart's name would be cleared and the Estharian and Galbadian government's attention would turn to him.

Of course Conrad wouldn't say a word; wouldn't turn his back on the cause. But the regime relied on the Intel he and his men gave them in order to ascertain Garden's motives. The fact that he was the Commander gave them a large advantage, since he had access to information almost no one else did.

A thought popped into his mind and he quickly grabbed his cellular phone, dialling a number quickly. He had a contact in Galbadia Garden that he trusted; if things went his way, then the prisoner wouldn't have the chance to tell the officials what he knew.

He placed the earpiece next to his ear and listened to the phone as it rang.

Her cellphone rang and she excused herself from her circle of friends, watching as they returned to the dorms on the second floor level before checking the number. She frowned thoughtfully; why would he be calling her at that very moment?

Sighing, she answered the phone, speaking as quietly as she could. "I thought I told you that you shouldn't call me unless it was urgent."

"It is urgent," Conrad's voice sounded and she frowned deeper. There was something in his tone that suggested it was important to hear him out. "SeeD just found a member of the terrorists who were responsible for the attempted assassination of President Ibrihim Caraway."

"How did they find him?" she asked.

"It's not important, but right now they're heading straight to the Garden. Yours to be precise. If he says anything, it could compromise us both."

"So you want me to ensure that he doesn't say a thing." She said. She sighed when she received an affirmative. "And what if I get implicated because I shut him up?"

"We can chalk it up to the fact that Trabia Garden was destroyed and you were mistaken about which group he was working for." Conrad said. "Make it convincing though; we can't afford to have those fools see through the lie."

The girl hesitated; it was risky, and rather fast, and she didn't know if she could pull it off. Conrad's voice broke through her thoughts. "Alicia, it's up to you; there are other moles in your Garden, but you're the one I trust to get it done. I have faith that you can keep him quiet."

Another sigh. "Alright, alright; I'll take care of it. But you owe me so badly, you know that, right?"

"Alicia, if you do this, I swear to you that whatever you want you can have." Conrad said.

Alicia grinned suddenly. "Anything, huh? _Anything_ I want?"

"Whatever it is, you name it."

"Next time you're visiting this Garden, I'll be sure to cash it in." She purred. She knew Conrad took the hint; she'd liked him ever since they'd met before going undercover. It was a shame he'd been the only one stationed to Garden HQ, but it was much more difficult getting in there than it had been getting into Galbadia Garden.

"We'll talk about it later," Conrad said. "I have to go; someone might come in and overhear this conversation. Just remember what I said."

"Oh, don't you worry." Alicia said. "When everything is said and done, we'll both be very, very happy."

* * *

Many things were taking place inside of the Estharian Presidential Residence; lots of hustle and bustle as people went from conference to conference; soldiers being sent out in order to assist with the evacuation process. Members of security were left with the task of keeping an eye out for suspicious personnel and Deilia Oakwood herself was preparing to assist with the evacuation process.

However, there was once place in the Residence that was quiet. Inside of a particular room painted white, machines hummed and whirled as they continued their life-saving procedure. A soft beep occasionally broke the otherwise silence with a reminder that all was currently well.

The occupant lying in the bed next to these machines lay perfectly still; as if he were nothing short of a lifelike statue, and had been this way for a while yet. However, that stillness was broken when his right hand twitched suddenly. After a moment, it twitched again before moving to rest onto his chest. His other hand clenched at the sheets that were draped overtop his prone form, and his eyelids fluttered before slowly revealing dark brown eyes.

After a moment, he sat up stark straight in the bed as though he'd been shocked awake, alerting the nurse that had just been in the midst of passing by. She raced down the hall, alerting doctors of the situation before they all returned to the room, proceeding in keeping him lying down. The man protest, and normally would have been able to fight them off, but his body was still recuperating from the injuries he'd sustained earlier in the day.

One of the doctors, instead of keeping their patient lying down, raced over to the phone positioned on the side wall and dialled three numbers before speaking quickly into the receiver. "Get me the President and Vice Chief Oakwood immediately!" he said, looking over his shoulder occasionally in case his coworkers needed his assistance. "He's awake! Chief James Logans has regained consciousness!"

* * *

**02:23:45**

* * *

Atop of a nightstand lay a simple grey cellular phone. It was set to vibrate, so when it began to ring, it started rotating in a circular motion, until the owner of the cellphone emerged from the adjacent bathroom, her hair pulled back inside of a washing towel as she wore nothing but one. She immediately picked up the contraption and, after inspecting the phone number, answered it. "Yes?"

"Someone fucked up," a feminine voice responded.

This intrigued Elaina, and she sat down on the bed, balancing the phone against her shoulder as she attempted to fix her towel into place. "Oh? What happened?"

"One of the guys stationed in Galbadia got caught," the girl responded. "He's being transported to Galbadia Garden as we speak."

"How'd you find this out?" She asked.

Elaina could tell the girl was grinning from her end when she answered. "Conrad asked me to do him a favour and keep the guy quiet."

"Well, you are the most qualified. Still, it's hilarious; those idiots are finally getting onto something." Elaina commented. "Did you ask for anything in return?"

"Of course," the girl eluded, and when she didn't comment, Elaina sighed.

"Alicia, you never quit, do you? You've been after that guy for sex for so long now; he's not interested."

"I'm not interested in a relationship." Alicia protested. "I'm all for the sex; I always have been."

"You know he's going to try to welch on your deal, right?"

"And if he does, I'll go straight to Tannel and tell him about the blunder."

Elaina sighed. "True; Tannel doesn't really care what we do with or to each other. Just try to keep it work related."

"Uh huh, whatever…" Alicia said. "You want me to keep you updated?"

Elaina grinned. "But of course. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

* * *

Christine was heading back to James' room, sunglasses in hand. Since Kiros returned them, she hadn't been able to leave them behind. She'd seen the recording, but couldn't help but feel that something was missing; there was a part of the story that was being left out, but she couldn't put her finger on it. The guys at the techlab were trying to fix it up just in case there was something else on it, but as far as the cabinet was concerned they had the proof they needed.

Her blood boiled when she remembered another piece of invaluable information that had been exposed. Schipner was a traitor to his country; it made sense why he attempted to keep her from making discovery after discovery and giving her a hard time. It made her angry to know that he was responsible for James' condition, but at the same time, she wondered exactly how it happened.

As she continued down the hall, she suddenly stopped when she recognized three of her own coworkers heading down the hallway towards her. Clark Coleman, Jeffrey Cattiffs and Daniel Jackman looked as though they were rushing somewhere and Christine was able to intercept them before they could go any further. "What's the hurry?"

"You didn't hear the news?" Daniel asked her. She and Daniel had both gone to college together and while she studied psychology, he was more into law than anything else. "Logans woke up."

Christine stared at him, looking for any indication that he was making a sick joke, but the expression on his face was genuine. "When did this happen?" She asked.

"A few minutes ago." Clark remarked. "We were just called to debrief him about the plane crash."

Christine frowned; that was the last thing she thought he needed. "But don't we already know what happened?"

"Not all the details." Jeffrey said. "For instance, why did the plane crash in the first place? Did Schipner or Leonhart betray anymore of the plan than what we heard? That kind of stuff."

"And we'll have to ask that you wait outside." Daniel said sympathetically. "The questioning has to happen first."

"Then I want to be a part of it." Christine said. "I have every right to know what happened and, no offence, but I don't want to hear about it through the grape line."

"That's fine with me," Clark shrugged.

"Same." Said Jeffrey.

"Then what are we waiting for. Lead the way Christine."

She did lead the way. She just hoped she knew what she was doing.

* * *

He sat in bed, staring at his hands, seemingly glaring at the material he was clothed in. He had been told that there would be someone coming to speak to him. He sincerely hoped it was Christine; he needed her comfort at the moment, even if it didn't seem all that professional. He didn't care, and he knew she wouldn't either.

The door to his room slid open and he looked up to see Christine pass through the threshold; a sight for sore eyes. He was about to make one of his sassy comments, but the words died in his throat as three more cabinet members entered the room, everyone's expression grim. He could tell this was no social call.

"I know this is sudden," Daniel started as the door slid shut behind them. "But we need to ask you a few questions."

"It won't take very long," Christine assured him.

James shrugged in response; not all together positive he'd be a big help, but if Christine was sure of that, then he had no problems telling them what they needed to know, to the best of his ability of course.

"First question," Clark started. "When Schipner revealed his true motives, did he disclose any other source of information?"

James' eyebrows nit together as he stared at Clark. "I'm sorry?"

"When he revealed himself as a traitor," Daniel elaborated. "Was there anything else he revealed?"

James suddenly felt as though he were reading the end of some kind of sci-fi book without reading the beginning. "…I don't think I understand the question. What do you mean Schipner is a traitor? Isn't he a member of the cabinet?"

Clark and Daniel exchanged glances but it was Christine who elaborated this time. "We need to know what happened on the plane."

"The plane?" James asked. "What plane? What's going on? What are you all talking about?"

Christine's expression changed from confusion to dread as she moved over to stare James in the face. The fact that everyone was suddenly so concerned was more than just a little unnerving. "Christine… are you alright?"

"You don't remember the plane?" Christine asked, to which James shook his head. "You don't remember being ordered to transport the prisoner to the Winter Island in order to prevent another attack in the prisons from taking place?"

James shook his head before responding. "I remember the prison attack. We managed to stop the intruder from killing the accused."

"What about after that?" Jeffrey asked.

James opened his mouth to answer, but he stopped himself as he tried to recall exactly what happened next. All he was drawing was a blank. "…Nothing… I remember reporting to the President, but then I woke up here. Don't tell me he decked me for the attack."

"No!" Christine immediately denied, and James realized she couldn't tell he'd only been joking. "No, nothing like that happened. Because of the attack in the prisons, you were ordered to escort Leonhart to the Winter Island in order to keep him safe from anyone else who would want to attack him. Schipner went with you, but he turned out to be a traitor."

"No way," James waved off. "I'm sure I would've remembered something like that. Schipner was cranky at the best of times, but he wouldn't betray his country."

"We have proof," Clark interrupted. "You filmed it yourself, and when we got to the crash site…"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second,"James said, sitting up a little straighter. "The plane crashed?"

Clark nodded before James interjected once more. "Where was I?"

"On the plane, as best we can figure." Clark deadpanned before continuing. "We found you among the wreckage. Your chest was severely burned, but thanks to magic and medicine, most of the damage has been repaired. We found another body in the wreckage, presumably the pilot."

"What about Schipner and Leonhart?"

Clark shook his head in response. "They were nowhere to be found."

"Why don't I remember any of this?" James asked. "If what you're saying is true, I think I would have remembered it all."

"Maybe you hit your head," Christine suggested. "You were pretty banged up, so it is possible."

"I don't know," James said, his frustration giving way. "I guess it's possible."

"Well, either way it can't be helped. You might as well hear us out to the end; it's spread around already." Christine took in a deep breath before speaking again. "It turns out that Leonhart was in league with the terrorists after all. The whole song and dance about him not being involved was just a game. He admitted it himself."

James stared dumbly at her. "What?"

"He also managed to gain control of the missile base." Jeffrey added. "He's launched missiles at three different locations; two small towns and Trabia Garden. All three were completely destroyed."

Before anything else could be said, the door behind Clark slid open once again, but this time it was a doctor who entered the room. "I'm afraid I have to conduct a couple of tests on the patient, so I'll have to ask that everyone step out for the meantime."

Everyone exchanged glances with one another before reluctantly leaving the room. Christine bent over and kissed James on the cheek before following the others out, the door closing behind her.

* * *

The night-time sky made it difficult to see the road, but the headlights of the bike were enough to make up for it. At least he could see within the next few feet of him. It also helped that not many people were commuting at this hour.

It was getting difficult to stay alert, and occasionally, Squall had allowed his thoughts to wander before forcing them into place. He couldn't afford to lose his concentration, not matter how exhausted he was. He had hoped that being unconscious for a while would have helped, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

What a long day this was turning out to be.

He continued down the road, forcing himself to recall SeeD regulations from the top of his head, making sure he remembered each and every one of them. It would at least keep him focused, if only for the moment.

The roar of the motorcycle's engine was dim to him; he'd grown used to it after a little while, so his ears were filled with the natural night time sounds. Because he was out of the city limits, he could see the stars shining up above him, and he couldn't help but recall the night of the Garden Festival; standing at the balcony outside of the ballroom at Garden watching them with Rinoa, before sharing a brief tender kiss. The fact that Selphie had spoiled it when she'd complained about the battery of the camera having died on her no longer mattered; though it was only four months ago, it felt like ages.

With some difficulty, he was able to reign in his thoughts back before they wandered off again. He considered packing it in for the night, but decided against it. He didn't have a tent, which would have served to keep the monsters away, but even if he had, it was too risky to stop and rest when the terrorists were still after him. He'd had a head start when he'd left Dollet, but he wasn't about to squander whatever precious time he had.

Then, up ahead, he noticed some headlights moving towards him. He frowned thoughtfully, believe it was probably some joy riders out for the night, but something in the back of his head told him to be wary all the same. The headlights increased in number, and Squall suddenly got the feeling that this was definitely a bad thing to happen.

The bikes suddenly stopped moving and Squall slowed down, wanting to know what happened next. The closer he got to the other bikes, the more their headlights blinded him and he was forced to shield his face in order to protect his vision.

A moment later, he heard a group of familiar clicking sounds and immediately sped up, swerving around as the gunfire started; the bullets bouncing off the pavement of the man-made road. He started to ride back the way he came, but he caught sight of more headlights heading straight towards him. He swerved again, this time, taking the bike off the road and into the grassy area.

The roar of bike engines nearby told him that they were still following him, yet he rode it out, despite having to duck down to prevent himself from being shot.

That's when he realized they were aiming for the tires on his bike.

Without very many options open to him, Squall turned around and allowed a thunder spell to dance from his fingers, a bolt of lightning hitting one of the riders and forcing him off his bike. Turning back around, he noticed a forest nearby and considered driving into it when the gunfire increased. The action made the decision for him and he manoeuvred the bike into the forest, hoping to lose them there.

* * *

**02:47:37**

* * *

Deilia blasted through the doors leading to the Presidential Residence, struggling to catch her breath. Laguna exchanged glances with Kiros and Ward before rising to his feet, concern taking over. "Are you okay? What'd you do, run a marathon?"

"The…ele…vator… wouldn't move… fast… e…nough…" Deilia huffed as she took in lungfuls of air. "Have…important news…"

"Don't kill yourself delivering a message." Laguna said, sitting back down. "Take as much time as you need to catch your breath."

Deilia nodded in response and when she was breathing normally once again, she took in another deep breath and let it out before speaking. "Harold Schipner is dead."

"What?" Laguna asked, shell-shocked. "How? Where? When?"

"I don't know all the specifics, but he was found under a thin layer of snow near the crash site; maybe a few yards away at most. Whatever footprints were made were covered with snow, but the C.O.D., as far as the corridor has determined, was a gunshot to the head – a through-and-through. The search team found the bullet underneath him, but it's frozen so they're thawing it out now."

She took in another deep breath before continuing. "As for when, your guess would be as good as mine. Because of the frigid temperatures in the Trabian Tundra, it's almost impossible to tell the T.O.D. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes."

"He was probably murdered to keep from being discovered." Kiros said. "But if he was loyal to the terrorists, wouldn't they have kept him around?"

Ward made a facial expression but Kiros translated. "You're right; if they didn't need him anymore, then they probably would have killed him to prevent unwanted information from being leaked."

"The only person I can see who was there was probably Leonhart," Deilia said. "They crashed in the ideal location, where Schipner's body wouldn't be found right away, and his tracks were covered by the snowfall. But he could be anywhere else by now."

"Is Schipner's body being brought in for processing?" Laguna asked.

"Yes, but I can't see what we could possibly find on him. Most of the evidence has been washed away by the snow."

"We can still try. Also, I want you to search his phone logs; I want to know who he's been in contact with for the last four months, and launch an inquiry for each person. I don't care if it takes months or even years, I want to know what other connections to the terrorist this guy had."

Deilia nodded and left the room.

* * *

Dennis headed into the forest where he'd seen the teenager drive into. It had taken a while to recover from the pileup the bastard had caused, but finally they'd managed to catch up. Seemed to him as though the brat was finally showing signs of wear.

He knew there was no such thing as an invincible being; even SeeDs needed sleep now and again, especially after all that this particular guy had been through.

Shortly after entering the forest, though, Dennis and his team found a motorcycle abandoned in a nearby brush. He hadn't been there for long; the tire tracks from the motorcycle were still there, as were a set of footprints; the SeeD hadn't had enough time to cover his tracks.

Dennis and his team followed the tracks into an open clearing, and suddenly Dennis felt bad about the situation. It was as though they were being lured into a trap.

Suddenly, one of his team members cried out from behind, and when he turned around, he saw sparks of electricity flash over the guy's body before he fell to the ground. He didn't get back up, but from what he could tell without examining him, he was only unconscious.

"Weapons out!" Dennis shouted, everyone pulling their pistols or submachine rifles out from their holsters. No sooner did that happen than another flash of light, this time a block of ice, appeared, encasing another two of his comrades inside. After a moment, the ice disappeared and the two fell to the ground shivering uncontrollably.

"He's up in the trees!" someone shouted and Dennis immediately blasted a branch where he'd thought he'd seen movement. It really had been a trap after all.

"Fucking resourceful SeeDs!" he shouted in outrage, but ducked when a ball of fire shot out towards him.

* * *

Squall cursed lightly before climbing up onto a higher tree branch, bullets spraying and causing leaves to fall every which way. As soon as he got a good footing, he concentrated a Blizzara spell at the enemy, a spear of ice erupting from the ground and catching the enemy off guard, and knocking down three of them.

The important thing was that they had no idea where the spell had come from.

Squall guessed that since fire was such a volatile element, there was a trail that came from summoning it. Still, he didn't have very many options, even as he let loose a tornado spell that swept the enemy off their feet. Unfortunately, as he was about to move, he spotted one of the terrorists point him out – the tornado spell must have raised him off the ground high enough to find out his location.

Crossing tornado off the list of useful spells for this encounter, Squall leapt at another tree just as the gunfire resumed, grabbing a hold of the branch and swinging upwards, landing a branch higher in a crouching position. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever; it was an effort just jumping from tree to tree, but the magic was wearing him down even further. He'd have to wrap this up quickly.

He sighed loudly; it'd been a little while since he'd had to cast level three magic.

He pressed the palms of both hands together with a loud 'clap' and concentrated on the thunder, closing his eyes and keeping his focus on that element. Third level magic was always more difficult to maintain, especially the thunder element, since it was such a wide-spread attack. He could feel the electricity in the air, feel it coursing through his skin and blood, making his hair stand on end. He heard shouting from below, but he didn't allow it to ruin is concentration, if anything he concentrated harder. When he had drawn enough energy into the spell, he let it loose, nearly losing his balance on the tree before the ground beneath the terrorists broke apart by the sheer force of the Thundaga spell. Lots of shrieks and shouts of pain were heard, but Squall kept his feet rooted to the tree branch; a means of cancelling out the effects of the spell and preventing any harm from befalling him.

He expected no one to be able to stand up, but was horribly surprised when he saw a few of them doing just that.

Cursing again, Squall tried concentrating on the ice element, hoping that maybe it would have a better result, except just as he was ready to cast the spell, the branch beneath him gave way, the sound of gunfire piercing through his concentration as he was forced to abort the attempt and grab a hold of the broken tree branch instead. He raised himself up into the air and attempted to grab a hold of a branch from another tree nearby, only to be force to dodge as another bullet whizzed through the air. How he managed to even do that was beyond him, but because of the loss of momentum, he was forced to fall to the ground, landing roughly onto his shoulder.

As he pulled himself into a crawling position, he heard the guns clicking – the enemy was reloading – and when they opened fire, Squall found it in himself to put up a protect shield, the bullets become absorbed into the blue translucent shield and disintegrating into nothing. Squall managed to pull himself up onto his feet and jump back up into another tree, attempting to surprise his attackers once again.

When he found a suitable branch, Squall prepared himself to concentrate on the fire element – no longer caring that it would lead them to his location but just wanting to end the fight – but paused when he realized the gunfire had not started up again. He frowned thoughtfully before a voice filled the air, diverting his attention almost enough to dissolve the spell. Still, he kept his focus.

"Calm down Leonhart," the guy said, and Squall recognized him as the one who tried to kill him on top of the truck he'd hijacked. "We're not here to fight or to kill you."

_Could have fooled me,_ Squall thought to himself.

"We've never wanted you dead; your actions forced us to attack you." the man continued. "Why don't you just give yourself up and come peacefully?"

_Or what?__ You'll shoot me until I comply?_

"After all," the man said. "It'd be a real shame if something happened to your sister."

This made Squall freeze. His concentration was lost and the ball of fire magic disappeared completely. What did they mean something would happen to his sister? They couldn't even get to her; she was in Esthar the last time he saw her.

"You're bluffing." He said at last, well aware that the enemy might start looking for his location.

"Oh?" he said, sounding a little surprised. "What makes you think that?"

"You can't touch her; she's in Esthar." Squall said. "Even if you can infiltrate the Presidential Residence, there's no way you'd be able to get passed the guards quickly enough to be able to do anything to her."

"Well, what if I were to tell you that she's with us, and has been with us for quite some time?"

Squall didn't answer; didn't feel the need to. They were bluffing; probably trying to locate him by carrying on this pointless conversation.

"You still don't believe me?" the man asked. "Let's put it this way; are you willing to gamble her life on it? Are you that certain that she's still in Esthar? If so, then all you have to do is strike me down, but just remember; actions always have consequences. You might just be signing her death certificate."

Squall conjured a fire spell in the form of a fireball, but couldn't bring himself to throw it. What if, by some very slim chance, they were telling the truth; that they had somehow managed to kidnap Elle? If that happened, then they could pretty much do anything to her. It did seem possible; anything could have happened while he was travelling from Trabia to Dollet. Still, it seemed rather convenient for them to have a trump card.

He asked himself the question, over again in his mind 'Are you willing to risk it?'.

Even before he'd asked himself, he already knew what the answer was.

He dissolved the fire spell and jumped down from the tree branch he'd been standing on, his hands raised into the air in the universal sign of surrender. He scowled at his captures though, even as the one who did all the talking laughed. "Wow; I can't believe that actually worked. And here I thought the boss was bullshitting."

"Where is she?" Squall demanded, and the guy laughed again.

"You're not the one in charge here," he said. "That would be us. But don't worry; you'll see your sister real soon."

"He's stopped again," Quistis remarked.

* * *

She was right; Squall had stopped for a good few minutes then; far longer than the first time. "Do you think he ran into trouble again?" Rinoa asked.

"I hope not, but it's the only explanation I can think of." Quistis remarked.

"Wait, he's moving again." Irvine said, pointing at the screen. After a moment, the sharpshooter frowned. The red dot on the screen that represented Squall's position was heading up towards the top, rather than to the left towards Timber as he had been previously.

"He's heading in the wrong direction." Irvine said, stating the obvious. "Systar is still further east."

"Why is he heading north?" Rinoa asked. "I don't understand."

"That means he left the cellphone on." Seifer said, gaining everyone's attention. Quistis had been sure he was still working on looking for the mole.

"Of course it is," Irvine said. "Squall ain't stupid. It's the only way we'll know where he is."

"Exactly." Seifer said, leaning back into his seat. "You guys are about to gain a very invaluable trump card, so you should really start talking about how you're going to use it."

"Trump card?" Rinoa asked and Seifer nodded. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you think it's odd that he suddenly stopped for a while before changing direction?" Seifer asked. "That could only mean one thing, since no one contacted him and told him of a change in the rendezvous location."

"Are you saying he was captured?" Rinoa asked.

"Bingo!" Seifer exclaimed, grinning.

"You think this is funny?" Irvine asked.

"Hysterical."

"Okay, how is it funny, exactly?" Rinoa asked.

"Simple. Because he _let_ himself get caught."

"And how do you know that for sure?" Quistis asked.

Seifer's grin grew wider. "Because I told him to."

Rinoa, Irvine and Quistis stared at him openly, their confusion seeping through their expressions. Finally, Rinoa moved over towards Seifer and slapped him so hard the sound echoed off the walls of the room. Quistis and Irvine winced in response before Rinoa grabbed him by the collar of his muscle shirt and pulled his face into hers. "And where the _hell_ would you get a bone-head idea to _tell_ him to purposely let the assholes chasing him catch him?"

"I'm wondering about that myself," Irvine said. Quistis nodded in agreement.

Seifer rubbed at his cheek gingerly, but it didn't seem to have the effect that Rinoa had intended. "Because he's got a new objective now."

"What exactly?" Quistis asked.

If possible, Seifer's grin grew even wider. "The location of the Adelist's base."

* * *

**_3:00:00_**


	14. Hour 14

**03/04/08:**_ A little over six months later, I finally update this story! Sorry it took so long everyone (that is, if I still have readers for this story). A few things happened that weren' entirely within my control, which included writer's block and the fact that I am back to job hunting again. Fortunately, I've worked passed my writer's block and managed to finish this chapter. At any rate, I hope anyone who reads this new chapter enjoys it._

**03/18/08: **_For some reason, the format at the beginning of this chapter screwed up, so this is just a note to let everyone know that the problem's been fixed._

* * *

_**The following takes place between 3pm and 4pm.  
**__**Events occur in real time.**_

He felt strangely out of place amongst the white-clad hospital staff wearing their Galbadian issued uniforms, but it had been a request for him to come down and meet with one of the patients. The fact that the sterol environment made him feel like an outcast would just have to shut up and deal with it.

He hated these robes more than anything else and wondered how Laguna got away with not having to wear them. It was an Estharian custom for the higher ranking officials or businessmen and women to dress in them, yet somehow their highest ranking personnel managed to get by looking like some half-rushed bum. It was ironic in a strange sort of way.

Then again, Laguna Loire was the walking definition of strange.

Still, Kiros proceeded down the white-walled hall, nodding occasionally to the doctors and nurses who passed him by before he reached the desired room. Taking in a deep breath, he released it slowly; reminding himself that he'd seen worse scrapes than what he was about to see. Hell, he'd fallen off a cliff and had managed to survive. The fact that he had been the best off compared to his comrades at the time didn't matter.

The door slid open, allowing him into the room and he stood just beyond the threshold, taking in the patient.

To be honest, James looked horrible; sort of like a half-bandaged mummy from one of those tacky horror films Laguna and Ward always made him watch. The top of his head was covered with it, though it wasn't keeping any hair at bay considering the other man was bald. The dressing robe he wore was white with black spots on it, like someone took a needle and decided to decorate out of sheer boredom. His arms were wrapped in the same sterol bandages, and Kiros could assume his chest was too – most of the burns had hit his upper abdominal region.

It was safe to say that James was lucky to have survived.

"Thanks for meeting with me," James said, jumping straight into it. Whatever he wanted to talk to him about must have been important.

"I was coming down to see you anyway," Kiros shrugged. "Now, why did you call me here?"

James stared at him for a moment; almost as though he were sizing him up, but after a moment he started talking. "I need to ask for a favour."

"What exactly?"

"I want to be put back on active duty."

Kiros stared at him, wondering if James was joking, but when he found no indication, he allowed himself to speak. "Um… have you actually taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?"

"I have, and I don't care." James responded. "Sitting idle isn't in my job description."

"You were just involved in a plane crash!" Kiros sudden snapped. It was like talking to Laguna all over again; trying to convince him that his hair-brain scheme was going to get himself killed when he'd just managed to get out of trouble in the first place. Then again, how often did that actually work? "You were unconscious for about four hours after that; hell the doctors say you should still be unconscious. And you want to just climb out of bed and get back to work?"

James nodded immediately without hesitation. "Lying in this bed makes me a civilian. According to the cabinet, I'm the only link to what took place on that plane and I can't even remember it. But I can't sit back and wait for those memories to come back; I have to take some action and prevent more bombings from happening. I need to be a part of this."

Kiros didn't hear anymore after that; something had just managed to sink in and he frowned thoughtfully. When he didn't respond, James seemed to get upset. "Dammit, Kiros, are you even listening to me anymore?"

"Something's wrong," Kiros said, his mouth going dry. The expression on James' face went blank; he'd obviously been blind-sided.

"What do you mean?" He asked after a second.

"The holographic projectors haven't come on for at least an hour." Kiros said, searching around the room for the phone.

"Yeah, so? What about it, it's not like you're expecting a…" James suddenly caught himself and Kiros knew he'd realized what was wrong. "You're right, something _is_ wrong."

"Consider yourself back on active duty." Kiros said. "I think we might need the help."

He didn't even wait for a response; simply running out of the room and leaving the Chief of Security behind.

* * *

"The evacuation is progressing smoothly, considering the situation." Deilia reported. She was stationed in a nearby town, and in the background of the holographic projection were civilians being escorted out of the town by Estharian soldiers and other personnel. "This town is almost done; the residence should arrive in the Capital in roughly an hour."

"Keep on the line," Laguna said, frowning thoughtfully. "I'll be speaking to the cabinet as well as to Garden and Galbadia, and I want you to hear this."

"Um, sir?" Deilia agreed, her expression giving away her confusion.

"You'll know what I'm talking about in a minute." Laguna snapped sharply; he didn't have much time to explain and he wanted everyone who needed to know hear him out. Deilia simply nodded in understanding before three screens popped up around her own. The Galbadian President was to her left and positioned in the center, with Garden's Commander on top and the cabinet to the left of the President.

"I noticed something just when my security personnel contacted me," Laguna started, but Caraway but him off.

"I noticed it as well." Conrad nodded in the background.

"It seems odd though," Jared pointed out among his peers.

Laguna leaned back into his seat, wondering just what the hell Squall was up to now. He'd made it perfectly clear what he wanted to happen and the consequences of it not taking place, but he was suddenly going back on his part. It didn't seem like him at all.

"It's been an hour." Laguna reiterated. "All around, it's been a little over an hour since the last bombing, but there haven't been any more since then. And Esthar's supply of missiles isn't all that limited."

"So why stop if his demands haven't been met?" Caraway asked, filling in the question.

"It's not like him to just abort this abruptly, unless this was just a distraction for something else." Conrad said.

"If he wanted something else, wouldn't he have just come out and said something?" Deilia asked for the first time since the conference started. "It wouldn't make any sense if this was all just a distraction."

"It would actually," Conrad said. "An operation is best conducted if all eyes are pointed elsewhere. The bombings would divert our attention away from any operation he'd want left alone."

"But he'd know the risks of such an action," Christine stated, positioned to the left of Jared. "He'd know everyone was looking for him."

"Which would have added to the distraction," Laguna said. "It's a brilliant move, but we need to figure out what it is he wanted to hide from us. We might have been able to ask Cid had he stayed on as headmaster."

The leading officials of their respective countries had been alerted of the breach in Garden and the resulted dismissal of Headmaster Kramer. Even now, Conrad stared down – probably at his desk – and sighed. "I'm beginning to regret my decision. We could have obtained possible leads if he was still part of the Garden."

"No, it's not you're fault; it's Cid's." Laguna waved off. "If he'd wanted Almasy back in the Garden so badly then he should have—"

"Loire, you're brilliant!" Caraway suddenly interrupted.

Laguna blinked stupidly. "I am?"

"Headmaster Kramer might have been able to shed some light on some things, but we know Almasy would be able to." Caraway explained. "It's a well-known fact that they trained together; of course he'd know how Leonhart thought."

"…Oh…" Laguna said, noting how dumb the response sounded. He hadn't even been thinking about that. "So if Almasy can tell us what we need to know, then we're one step closer to figuring out Squall's… I mean Leonhart's plan."

No one commented on the slip up, though Conrad appeared thoughtful before speaking. "I'm not sure Almasy would be willing to help; if we let on that he could help us, he'd obviously want to make a deal. Quite possibly even to remove from the record his war crimes."

"Well, if he won't tell us willingly, we could just interrogate him." Caraway stated bitterly. It was no secret the Galbadians were all for persecuting the former cadet for the recent Sorceress War.

"It's kind of ironic, now that you think about it," Jared added, changing the subject slightly. "We needed Leonhart's help to stop Almasy and the Sorceress from taking over, and now we need Almasy's help in order to stop Leonhart."

"And if you look at it in that perspective, Almasy can't possibly refuse." Laguna said, nodding to himself slightly. "The two of them are rivals; have been since they first attended Garden. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Almasy has been following this whole situation from the start, simply because Leonhart was involved."

"Well, I can't guarantee anything," Conrad said at great length. "But I will try to persuade him to cooperate."

"Better yet," Caraway said. "Why not continue this conference and we can all ask him what we need to know. We'd have the intimidation factor—"

"Both Almasy and 'intimidation' should not be used in the same sentence." Conrad interrupted. "Unless you mean he is the one who is intimidating rather than intimidated."

"Still, it would be better if we could all talk to him at the same time." Caraway said.

"Are you saying that you don't trust me?"

"No, he's not saying that at all," Laguna interrupted before things could spiral out of control. "He's just saying that we'd all like to sit in and hear what he has to say, right Caraway?"

Caraway nodded in response and Conrad sighed, seemingly calming down. "Alright, I'll get him up here. We'll reconvene this meeting once Almasy is present."

Everyone nodded in response before the contact was disconnected.

* * *

**03:06:24**

* * *

It hadn't been very long since they'd started walking through the forest. The best he could figure, they were heading north, but beyond that it felt like he was being led in the dark. No one talked as they moved; the only sounds were the crunch of leaves as boot-clad feet manoeuvred their way along the ground, and the rustling of branches and brush along their way. Crickets chirped loudly, the sounds of night amplified by the silence of the group.

Despite being a prisoner to the terrorists though, Squall couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't bound his arms at the very least. He supposed it was because they knew he wasn't going to run or resist – not with the possibility that they were holding Ellone prisoner as well – but even still there was such a thing as being too laxed about a situation. Squall was a threat to them (or so it seemed), and yet the only real thing that was uncomfortable was the man behind him prodding him between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the submachine gun he held. It was only mildly irritating, but the man insisted on prodding the exact same spot every few minutes or so.

Soon enough though, they managed to enter a clearing, where they stopped so suddenly, Squall was barely able to prevent himself from bumping into the man in front of him. When no one made a move to continue on, Squall frowned; he wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or now. "Why are we stopping?" he asked.

No one answered and Squall noticed the man who had done all the talking reaching into his back pocket, producing a simple looking cellphone. "Why are we stopping?" Squall asked again, only to receive a hit to the back of the head with the barrel of the very weapon that had been prodding him.

"The fuck up." The man behind him all but snarled. Squall assumed he meant 'shut the fuck up', but didn't bother to correct him. He couldn't be all that positive that was what was said anyway – his Estharian accent was thicker than what he was used to hearing.

The man with the cellphone dialled a number and placed the earpiece next to the body part it was named after, not saying anything, and his features carefully blank. It was almost as though he didn't want to give away some kind of secret.

Only a second after he dialled, he placed a hand over the mouthpiece before directing his attention towards to other terrorists – a man and woman. "Janine, Carter; go back and grab the bikes. We don't want any unwanted attention."

Both of them nodded in response and left without a word. Soon afterwards, the man removed his hand from the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece. "It's me."

He paused; probably listening to something on the other end, but soon afterwards he spoke again. "Don't worry; we got the package. Hope you don't mind damaged goods though; had to rough him up a bit before we could grab him. Bunch of my guys suffered pretty bad injuries – three of them are out cold and everyone else is all but limping."

He paused again and Squall frowned, not liking the looks that were crossing everyone else's faces. He hadn't been hurt that badly; with the latest encounter, they hadn't touched him at all. He'd been worried about how to get himself caught and find their base until they'd mentioned his sister, but even then had he not been planning on surrendering, the result would have been slightly different.

It was then that he realized just exactly what was going to happen and he sighed lightly. If they were going to do what he thought they were going to do, he wasn't just going to stand there. They already had him as a prisoner, but he sure as hell wasn't going to lay down and let them beat the crap out of him.

"…yeah, he's still alive." The man continued his conversation. "Damn near out of it though; think we hit him a little too hard. If you ask me, the shit deserves it, what with all he's put us through these last few months."

He muttered something into the mouthpiece before finally hanging up and turning around to face the group of them. Squall had already dropped into a weary crouching position, preparing himself should he get attacked.

The people around him grinned darkly, but none of them made a move while the man with the phone started laughing. "Ah, so you understand what's gonna happen. It's only fair; it took us such a long time to catch you, after all. Of course they'd expect casualties and wounded, but if we told them we couldn't even touch you it'd make us look bad. You understand, right?"

Squall didn't say anything; opting to remain ready for their attack. The man sighed in response. "I knew you weren't very talkative, but this is getting ridiculous. And I'd be careful if I were you. Each hit you retaliate with will just ricochet onto your precious sister. Wouldn't wanna have to bruise that pretty face of hers, but then again it'd be your fault, not mine."

Squall grit his teeth in response to the threat, clenching his fists so tight they hurt through the leather gloves. It was a dirty tactic, but he couldn't risk them hurting Ellone if he resisted. He took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, unclenching his fists and relaxing his stance slightly. He was stuck and he didn't like it, but he'd just have to deal with it.

"Smart kid," the man nodded and Squall sensed more than heard one of the bigger members of the group step forward. "Don't worry; they're sending a car for us to use to get back, so we'll make this quick. Can't promise it won't hurt though."

He laughed at the joke, but Squall didn't have time to think about it as something hard collided with the back of his head, forcing almost blindingly bright stars to dance in his vision. He staggered forward, caught off guard by the sudden attack and nearly stumbled onto one knee, even as the one standing to his left raised his leg and kicked him in the stomach. Squall grit his teeth as the onslaught of pain nearly overcame him – his injuries from the plane crash still had yet to fully heal themselves. He was able to breathe through his nose before a jab from the right knocked his chin upwards, forcing him to look up into the sky. Just as he was recovering from that, though, a sudden wave of pain came from his lower regions and the SeeD was forced to lie onto the ground in fetal position, blinking back the tears from the sudden shot to the groin he'd taken.

"Wow! He went down so quick from that one!" he was able to hear the man with the phone laugh through the haze of pain and shallow breathing. "John! That was a shit move…do it again."

Squall couldn't concentrate on much else after that, with the surrounding terrorists kicking, hitting and stomping hard onto him. It was an effort to try and block the shots aimed at both head and groin, but it didn't stop the waves of pain from adding onto each other. He was gritting his teeth so tightly together that he was almost afraid they were going to break, but after an exceptionally painful kick to the stomach, he opened his mouth in reflex and coughed up some blood, staining the surrounding grass red. It wasn't very dark; no internal injuries, which was about the only good thing that'd come from this whole situation.

Finally, someone shoved their foot underneath his stomach – he'd rolled onto it in order to stop them from kicking at it – before lifting him up like they were kicking up a ball and kicking him into an adjacent tree, causing him to cough up more blood. It dribbled along his chin and dripped onto his shirt, but he used the sleeve of his arm in order to wipe it away.

His breathing much shallower than it had been, he looked up when a shadow fell over him, cradling his stomach with his left arm. The man with the cellphone stood over him with his arms folded across his chest, his expression set into a grim glare. "Get back up." He said.

Squall didn't comply at first; he wasn't at all positive he could stand. But after a moment, he grabbed a hold of the tree behind him with his free hand before lifting himself back up onto his feet. It was difficult having to support his own weight by one hand, but eventually he was able to stand, albeit hunched over. He also found that he was having difficulty focussing, but he strained himself on being able to see his surroundings.

"Didn't think that'd keep you down," he sneered before throwing a right hook that caught Squall off guard. It almost knocked him off his feet again, but he managed to maintain his grip of the tree and simply stumbled, attempting to reign in his breathing in between spitting blood out of his mouth. When he was able to, he turned back around, glaring at each of them in the hopes that it'd piss them all off. He wouldn't have to feel what they were doing to him if he was unconscious and, although he would have rather seen the location of the base himself, he was willing to make sacrifices.

"Real brave of you," he managed to rasp out in between breaths, the words dripping with sarcasm. "All of you guys up against one person who can't even fight back or defend himself. Yeah, you're big strong men alright."

His vision swam for a moment and a lapse of dizziness threatened to overtake him but he fought it in favour of some verbal jeering. They hadn't said he couldn't fight back with words.

However, that was all it took; the man with the phone balled a fist and swung again, forcing the SeeD back onto the ground this time. Squall spat onto the ground again before finally collapsing atop the grass and dirt, his surroundings dimming until he knew no more.

* * *

Rinoa frowned, noticing that the signal had paused just a little further north of their location. Having been unable to deal with sitting on her hands and waiting for something to happen, she'd opted to keep an eye on Squall's signal, just so long as someone taught her the controls. Rinoa was by no stretch of the imagination stupid, but at the same time she wasn't a miracle worker.

Still, they'd been stopped for a few minutes now; it was almost as though they were waiting for a rendezvous.

Before she could voice her concerns, though, Quistis hung up her cellphone and everyone's focus shifted to the former Instructor. "That was Zell; apparently, the squad leader doesn't quite trust them after they ran off after the terrorists. She's sending them to the next town while she personally brings the suspect to G-Garden."

"Then all we really need is the frequency the Squad Leader's using." Seifer shrugged, still glued to his computer screen.

"I can get that from when she contacted the Commander." Irvine said and got right to work.

Suddenly the phone started ringing; everyone immediately checked their cell phones and came up empty before Quistis must've realized it was the landline. Once she picked it up, the ringing stopped. "Trepe." She stated briskly. She was silent after a moment before speaking again. "May I ask why?"

Again she was silent. Rinoa and Irvine exchanged glances, the latter shrugging at the former, while Seifer continued working on his lap top. Rinoa would've loved to see what he was working on, but the instant she would try to look over his shoulder; he'd somehow figure it out and shift so she couldn't see anything at all. She wondered how much he'd actually gotten done and if he had any suspects who he thought might be the mole, but every time she'd asked up until now, he'd just pretend she hadn't said anything.

"Alright, we'll come right up." Quistis concluded before hanging up the phone. She looked to each of them before finally speaking. "The commander wants us to speak to him about something."

"What does he want with us?" Irvine asked, but Quistis shook her head.

"No, it has nothing to do with you or Rinoa."

At this Seifer finally lifted his head from what he'd been looking for, and swivelled around to face the former Instructor. "And what the fuck does he want with me?"

"I'm not a mind reader; he just asked that the both of us meet him in his office immediately."

"He can go fuck himself." Seifer snapped. "I'm not jumping at his beck and call just cuz he fucking says so. I got important work to do."

"And if we don't want to arouse suspicion, you'll put your work on hold and accompany me upstairs so we can talk about whatever it is he wants to talk about." Quistis snapped back as she undid the lock on the door. In response, the object slid open, and Quistis turned to look back at the others.

Rinoa figured out what she was about to say and beat her to it. "We'll look after things while you're gone."

Seifer scowled at Quistis before finally folding the top of the laptop down onto the keyboard and rising to his feet, muttering curses as he moved towards the door. He shot a look at both Rinoa and Irvine in an unvoiced threat should they look at his stuff before the door slid closed behind them, the door locking a moment later.

As soon as Quistis and Seifer's footfalls were out of earshot, Rinoa scrambled for the laptop, but Irvine stepped into her path. "He's gonna kill you if he figures out you've been snooping into his stuff."

"Then he should have taken it with him." Rinoa said, smiling brightly before trying to manoeuvre passed the sharpshooter. He stepped in the way again.

"Greenwood thinks it's still under lock and key, Seifer knows that." Irvine argued. "This is a big invasion of privacy."

"Oh you wanna look too and you know it." Rinoa said. "Besides, if there's a mole and Seifer knows something, don't you think it'd be fair to let us in on the big secret? It's not fair that we have to trust him when he doesn't exactly trust us, is it?"

Irvine went to comment further, but Rinoa brushed him off, looking over his shoulder and pointing out brightly. "They're moving again."

The sharpshooter turned back around in order to watch the monitor screen and Rinoa finally moved passed him in order to claim her prize. Lifting the lid up, she caught Irvine's scowling reflection in the screen. Smiling innocently, she shrugged and said, "We can't both be monitoring Squall, now can we?"

With one final disapproving look, Irvine turned to take up Rinoa's original job, while Rinoa tapped on the keyboard. Her smile faded when she realized there was a password she needed to type in.

_Rats. Knew it was too easy._

* * *

She stalked back into the command room, knowing that he probably didn't want to see him after their last encounter, but not really caring. She pushed the doors open, allowing them to clank against the walls loudly, knowing that it would piss him off, as she moved towards the front desk, the chair swivelling around. She stopped a few feet ahead, looking into the false face of the man she was about to report to. "I guess my men aren't complete screw ups after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cobatchi asked wearily. Damn, she'd been expecting to get a rise out of him.

"It means the pain in both our asses has been found and he's on his way as we speak."

"How badly injured is he?" Cobatchi asked, leaning back into his chair.

Double damn; he'd caught the smirk on her face. "He'll live," Elaina stated evasively. "He's gonna be walking funny for a while though."

Cobatchi simply nodded in her direction and swivelled back around, as though he were dismissing her. Elaina's lip curled in response. "Hey, let's get one thing straight here, okay? I'm not one of your lackeys who you can tell to go piss on the street and expect them to do just that. I'm higher up in the chain than you are and--"

"And for the moment, you're working for me," Cobatchi interrupted, his tone irritatingly calm.

"That doesn't mean you can go overstepping your bounds." Elaina snapped. "Once this is over, you go back to being the go-to man for cute little gadgets. "

"But in the meantime, this is my operation, and you'll do well to know your place." Cobatchi stated calmly.

Elaina stomped her foot irritably. "Just because you're Tannel's favourite doesn't give you the right to treat me like shit."

"Are you frustrated because you _think_ Tannel likes me more than you," Cobatchi said as he turned back to look at her in all seriousness. "Or because you _think_ he's wrong?"

"First of all, you _are_ Tannel's favourite. There's no question about that, so stop playing dumb."

"And secondly?"

Elaina sighed in frustration, running her hand through her shoulder-length hair. "Tannel _is_ wrong. Especially about this."

"It's not our place to question it." Cobatchi sighed as if he'd heard this mantra a thousand times.

"But it is our job." Elaina said. At Cobatchi's confounded expression, Elaina elaborated. "The whole team who defeated the Sorceress four months ago is responsible for Adel's murder; Leonhart's the man who pulled the trigger. You would think Tannel would want him to burn for it, but instead, he wants us to bring the bastard to him _alive._ Doesn't that sound weird to you?"

"Yes." Cobatchi answered after a moment's thought.

Elaina's expression lit up, but it fell back when Cobatchi continued. "But Tannel is in charge. If this is what he wants, then we have no choice but to comply."

"Okay, but you do agree that it's weird." Elaina pressed. Cobatchi just gave her that irritatingly calm expression before she sighed in exasperation and continued. "He's a big danger to this operation. You've got the world convinced that you're him. It'd make much more sense to kill him and let you continue the charade."

"What Tannel wants with Leonhart is his business," Cobatchi stated simply. "And if he doesn't want to inform us, then that's his call. In the long term, the decision is his to make."

"But short term it's affecting us all," Elaina snapped. "I'm not the only one complaining about not killing him; I've overheard my men wondering the same thing. I don't know about you, but I'm not prepared to follow orders blindly."

"Then you're not suitable for your position," Cobatchi retorted. "If you can't follow orders from your superiors without questioning them, then you really don't have a place here."

Elaina frowned deeply, chewing the inside of her lip to keep herself from screaming at the man in front of her. He understood all right; she could tell that by his expression – he just didn't care.

Turning on her heel abruptly, Elaina removed herself from the room; her hands clenched into tight fists as she sent murderous glares towards anyone who tried to approach her or were just in the way.

_I'll find out what the big secret is,_ she thought to herself. _Just you wait and see._

* * *

**03:19:04**

* * *

Kiros hung his cellphone and continued down the hallway. He knew that allowing James to return to duty wasn't exactly his call, but honestly they needed the manpower. He'd deal with the consequences later. Fortunately, he'd managed to sucker the secretary into delivering the news to Laguna once his conference was over. He didn't know how long that would be, but it'd be enough time to at least come up with a decent excuse.

Just as he turned the corner and prepared to enter the elevator at the end of the hall, he saw a familiar blonde cabinet member enter the lobby and signal for him to hold the doors. Kiros did just that, figuring she'd have something to say about his decision as well; when he'd told her about it, she hadn't seemed too happy about it, but he'd excused himself from the call in order to leave Laguna the message. Now it looked like he was about to get an earful.

Fortunately, there wasn't anyone else in the elevator, so no one would be privy to their conversation.

"Before you say anything," Christine said suddenly once the doors had shut and she was inside. "This isn't about James. I understand your decision."

"But you don't accept it." Kiros stated. Christine nodded.

"But it's also James' choice and I'm not his mother."

"Deilia will be there; she'll be able to assess the situation." Kiros said. "But you said you weren't here to talk about that."

Christine nodded again before saying, "Have the tech guys found anything else on that recording?"

Kiros shook his head. "It's still garbled up. I think the glasses were damaged by the crash; the evidence we got was a little mucked up."

"What about Schipner?"

"Just that the search team recovered his body," Kiros explained. "But they did manage to narrow down the TOD; approximately ten thirty this morning."

"But that was right before the message was aired, wasn't it?" Christine asked. Kiros nodded. "But if Leonhart killed Schipner like we suspect, that would mean he'd have to be in two places at once."

"I know; if he had some kind of body double, it'd explain everything; like how he got from Galbadia to Esthar and back in time for our forces to arrest him. But…"

"But?" Christine asked when Kiros failed to continue.

"But that's not how he operates; from what I've seen and heard, he prefers to do everything himself. It's a bit arrogant if you ask me."

"So either way we've got holes in the story?" Christine asked. "Okay, I'll do some digging where I can; maybe we can sort it out and come up with something plausible."

The elevator dinged; they'd reaching Kiros' floor. He stepped out of the contraption as he spoke. "I'll look into it too. The more we understand the sooner we can concentrate on putting an end to this."

* * *

He removed himself from contact only a minute ago and had assured everyone involved in the conference that he would not begin questioning Almasy (once he finally got there) until he had re-established contact with each and every one of them. Pulling the phone off its cradle, which was the reason why he'd had to disconnect, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Commander Greenwood."

However, instead of the person on the opposite end, there was a voice over instructing him to hold while the caller was connected to him. Frowning, he realized it must have been an outside line, and that Xu hadn't had the chance to screen the call.

However, the moment was brief, and he recognized the voice on the opposite end. "Sir, it's Operative Sanders, reporting in. We are currently twenty minutes out from Galbadia Garden."

Normally, an operative would not have had to contact him in order to relay their ETA; however Conrad had asked it upon her to take the added step. "Once you arrive at the Garden and have met with Master Martine, contact me immediately. I must impress upon him the severity of the situation to him."

He received the affirmative and disconnected the call, right as someone knocked on his office door. He told whoever it was to enter, and sure enough it was Trepe and Almasy; the latter wearing a scowl – no doubt he'd been forced to come – but Conrad wasn't the least bit surprised. The only reason he'd even requested Trepe's presence was to make sure Almasy actually came up here. It looked as though he'd guessed correctly.

"You're just in time," Conrad greeted somewhat amicably. He was in a considerably good mood at the moment – what with everything running smoothly.

"Just in time for what, sir?" Trepe asked. Conrad ignored the SeeD and fixed his attention on Almasy.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Almasy immediately looked suspicious. "We?"

Conrad immediately re-establish the connection between himself and the world leaders before leaning back into his seat, watching the puzzled expression that crossed Trepe's features and the disbelief on Almasy's. Clasping his hands together and propping his elbows on the arms of his chair, Conrad said, "Councillor, you are dismissed. You may wait outside if you wish until we're finished."

"What the fuck is this?" Almasy suddenly burst out. "A fucking interrogation!"

Trepe had been about to follow orders, but the outburst stopped her and she glared at the former cadet.

"As much as an interrogation is long overdue," President Caraway barked. "This isn't about you."

"Then I'm outta here." Almasy turned to leave the room when Conrad cleared his throat.

"You have invaluable information that we need right now," Conrad explained. "And you may recall the conditions to your stay with the Garden; you're full cooperation."

"The agreement was to follow Garden's rules," Almasy said, but before he could get into the part about Kramer, Conrad interrupted him.

"And following the Commander's orders is a part of that." Conrad sighed before leaning forward, knowing that this performance was going to have to a good one. "If we weren't in need of your assistance, do you honestly believe we would have called you up here?"

The look on Almasy's expression had changed from outraged to poker straight. He had, indeed, been trained well by SeeD; however Conrad knew the best way to ensure his assistance was a little ego stroking. To quote a phrase; _it's easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar._

"What's it about?" Almasy finally asked and Conrad internally grinned; he knew he was getting somewhere.

"It's about Leonhart," Conrad said. "His motives, what he would do given the situation and other things surrounding that."

"You should already know all that." Almasy folded his arms across his chest.

"But no one knows him as well as you do." Conrad persisted. "You were both training partners while cadets at this Garden, and because you were on opposite ends of the previous war, you should know what he would do in most, if not any, situation."

It was a few moments before Almasy said anything and, for a moment, Conrad was concerned that he would suddenly change his mind – it wasn't above anything the former terrorist would've done. But finally, he did speak. "We know he's droppin' bombs on all your asses. Didn't actually think he'd have the stones."

"But he's suddenly stopped," Loire spoke up before Conrad could say anything. "And we want to know why."

"He was probably hiding something," Almasy said, shrugging. His expression had shifted to boredom.

"Yeah, we want to know _what_ he's hiding," Loire persisted.

"We've already ascertained that the killings in Esthar and the bombings were a diversion." Caraway explained, his tone chipped. "But we haven't even begun to fathom what his true motives are."

"So you want me to get inside his head." Almasy said and Conrad could tell he was trying to be as difficult as possible. His hands were beneath his desk and he clenched them nervously, wondering if something had gone wrong with the operation.

"That's why you're here," Loire said, leaning back into his seat. "According to Commander Greenwood, you're the only one he's had the longest ties with, so you'd have the best chance at figuring him out."

"Hey, I said I hadn't thought he'd have the stones to bomb those places," Almasy said. "What makes you think I can get inside his head?"

"Everyone has tells, Almasy," Conrad spoke up; the first signs of panic stirring in his stomach. He really _was_ trying to be difficult. "As much as we try to hide them, there's no way to do so completely. You would know those tells."

"Hey, Cid told me to keep my nose out of it."

"But I doubt you actually followed those orders."

Almasy shrugged. "First time for everything, I guess. All I know about the situation is what I heard from the radios; that someone killed some fuckers in Esthar," at this, Loire's expression faltered slightly, "Puberty boy was held responsible, and that he's bombing other places for some fucking reason."

"He wants Esthar's government to stand down," Loire explained, though Conrad could tell he'd taken offence at the careless way Almasy had summed everything up. "At least, that's what was demanded of us in the first broadcast."

"Then Esthar's probably a mute topic," Almasy shrugged. He was clearly becoming agitated. "I don't fucking know what goes through his fucking head; I just trained with the fucker. I was the Sorceress' fucking lap-dog, remember?"

Conrad could tell that Almasy was loathe to admitting that little fact, but chose to not comment as he continued. "It was the Sorceress who called all the shots; she knew what he was gonna do before he did it, not me. I just followed orders and stood in his way. Why not ask her a thing or two?"

Before anyone could say anything, Almasy proved how rhetorical that question had been, "Oh, right. Completely forgot. She's dead. That's why the Galbadian assholes are all over _my_ ass."

Caraway rose to his feet at the jeer. "I've heard just about enough out of you."

"Yeah, what are _you_ gonna do about it?" Almasy snapped right back. "Recline in that cushy chair and sick your army dogs on me? Risk another international crisis while you've got terrorists on everyone's asses? I don't fucking think so!"

"That's enough!" Conrad said, raising his voice before Loire could interject. "It appears that we aren't going to get anywhere with this meeting, so I suggest we just continue to survey the situation. We'll reconvene the instant we receive some new intelligence."

Conrad turned to glare at Almasy, who glared right back at him. "You're dismissed."

"About fucking time," Almasy snapped back before storming out of the room while Esthar and Galbadian contacts disconnected. Trepe, who had somehow been forgotten throughout the chaos, followed after the former cadet.

As soon as he was certain he was alone, he allowed the frustrated façade to drop and leaned back in his chair, chewing on his lip. He gathered that Almasy had been annoyed by his sudden requested presence, be a lot of it had been a load of crap. Conrad knew – he didn't know how or why, but he knew – that Almasy knew a lot more than what he was letting on.

The thought had occurred to him when he'd begun to notice how hard he was trying not to cooperate, but Conrad was beginning to suspect that one of the things that Almasy knew about was the mole.

Which conjured up another question; if he knew about the mole, did he suspect him?

No, it was preposterous. Conrad had been careful; he'd made certain that no trail could be lead to him. It was really the only reason why Almasy wasn't dead yet; only a select few knew of his presence and if he was killed, those people would immediately become suspects.

But if he did suspect a mole, could that have been the reason why Kramer had let him back into the Garden? To find the mole and call him out?

Even if he could just dismiss his sudden uncooperativeness with his overblown arrogance and bruised pride from the last four months, he couldn't overlook it completely.

Conrad grabbed his cellular, dialled a number and waited for Cobatchi to answer on the opposite end. "We've got a problem…"

* * *

It had taken a little bit, but Quistis had been able to catch up to Seifer at the elevator; the only reason she hadn't been left behind was that he'd been forced to wait.

When she made certain that no one was listening in, she cleared her throat in an attempt to gain his attention before all but hissing in a harsh whisper, "Just what the hell was that back there?"

Seifer didn't answer her and Quistis scowled. "I understand you're not wanting anyone to know that you're looking for the mole, but that was no excuse to be so difficult. This is a crisis situation and everyone needs to help each other out."

She paused enough to look around and check to see if anyone was walking by. They were lucky thus far. "They have a point though; why did the terrorists stop the bombings? What else could they possibly want?"

There was a 'dinging' sound; the signal that the elevator had reached the floor. Seifer wordlessly entered the contraption and Quistis followed suit, the doors shutting themselves as they began their descent to the first floor.

It was another moment before Quistis said anything else. "I don't see why we shouldn't explain that Squall's innocent. We should have said something a long time ago."

"It wouldn't have done anything," Seifer said at last. From the looks of it though, he wasn't angry at all; if anything he looked amused. "They would have dismissed the concern as your wanting to believe that he wasn't guilty. If anything, the only thing that would have been done about it was gotten you suspended, and we need everyone in the positions they have right now."

Quistis hit him – hard – against the shoulder, scowling as she did. "That was just a performance!"

"A pretty damned good one, if you ask me."

"What is the matter with you?" Quistis snapped. "Of all the places to act like such an…"

"Asshole?" Seifer interjected. "It's what I do best."

"Why did you even _do_ that!" Quistis asked in exasperation. "It doesn't make any sense! It's not like the Garden mole was anywhere near…"

Quistis suddenly trailed off, and turned to look at Seifer expectantly. However, the former cadet wasn't saying a word. They were passing the second floor landing when she finally cleared the air. "Oh Hyne. You don't think the _Commander_ is the mole, do you?"

Seifer still didn't say anything.

"But…" Quistis was at a loss for words. "But _why_?"

"Why not?" Seifer asked, staring straight ahead. "He's in a position of power and has access to anything and everything the terrorists would need. Plus, he's one of the few people in this damn building who know about the connection between Esthar's President and Puberty boy, which explains the attack in Esthar a couple months back."

"But that doesn't mean he's automatically the one who did it!" Quistis argued. "It could have been anyone! And just because the terrorists know about that doesn't necessarily conclude that it's someone who knows in the Garden. For all we know, one of the terrorists could've found out anywhere else and relayed the Intel."

"There's still no reason _not_ to believe he's involved," Seifer said.

"You're not even looking at anyone else!" She accused.

"Everyone else who I suspected a long time ago has already been cleared," Seifer snapped suddenly. "And the only reason why I haven't called out ol' Connie is because I don't have enough evidence to back it up."

"So it's just a theory?" Quistis asked tentatively.

"No." Seifer answered. "I'm positive he's the mole. I just don't have enough proof to accuse him yet."

Quistis stared at him critically for a second. "Since when have you ever refrained from jumping the gun?"

"I'm not stupid, _Instructor,_" he stressed the word tauntingly. "This is different from accusing someone of loitering in the halls or staying out after curfew. And despite what you seem to think, I know how to be careful and thorough. It's why it took you all so damn long to find me here."

The silence that was left afterwards was thick; even as Seifer stared nonchalantly at the glass surrounding them, Quistis' brows were furrowed in thought. Ever since she'd learned of a mole in the Garden, she'd attempted to keep an eye out in case she could come up with any suspects. Of course that had been the job that Seifer had been given, but it didn't hurt to look herself. Still, the Commander hadn't even come close to making the list.

Shaking her head, Quistis abolished the thought from her mind. There was no way the Commander could've been the traitor; Squall had practically hand-picked him, and a background check had been made before he'd been selected for the job. There was no possible way that they could have handed a terrorist control of the Garden.

It wasn't until Quistis could see the first floor that Seifer said anything else. "Don't let on to anyone else what you know."

Quistis slowly turned to regard him; he was staring at her seriously. "You weren't supposed to figure it out; why they didn't just throw you out when you didn't leave, I don't know. But you can't act any differently or even hint to anyone not to trust him."

"Not even the others?"

"Not even them."

Quistis frowned. "But you said you'd already cleared them."

"Doesn't mean Connie doesn't have any other means of finding out that he's under suspicion," Seifer pointed out. "And we all know Rinoa can't act for shit; neither can the Chickenwuss. The Messenger Girl can, barely, but I'm not taking the risks, and from what I've heard, the Cow-dung is a fucking gossip."

"Not about important things like this." Quistis argued.

"All the same, I'd rather they not know."

Quistis sighed irritably, and a moment later, Seifer said something else, "And I need to hear you say you won't."

"I don't believe I should hide this from the others," Quistis said, and sighed again. "Alright, fine. I won't mention it. I won't hint about it. I won't even write them a coded message about it."

The elevator slowed to a stop, and a moment later, the door slid open, Seifer stepping out of the elevator almost immediately and heading down the stairs. Quistis was slower, folding her arms across her chest and frowning to herself internally. Once it got out that they had had suspicions, she knew the questions were going to start flying. The others would understand why she didn't say anything, but at the same time they'd still feel hurt about it. She knew she would.

Sighing, she followed Seifer back down the hall and headed back to her dorm room to meet with Rinoa and Irvine.

* * *

**03:28:46**

* * *

He was jarred out of his thoughts when the car he was riding in started to slow. Blinking twice out of reflex, he looked around, recognizing where he was and the surroundings that passed them by. Because the tires that normally would have been there were replaced by pads that caused the vehicle to hover in midair, the desert ground beneath them stayed undisturbed; no dust flew around them like he'd seen in the movies.

James had always wondered what it would feel like to ride in a vehicle with wheels. Never having stepped foot outside of Esthar in his entire life, he only had the stories his grandmother used to tell him when he was a little kid. He remembered always wondering what it would feel like to have the wind and dust blow into his face simply from the wind rather than from some kind of explosion. Esthar's cars always came with a roof; unlike in Galbadia they never had the option of convertibles or detachable roofs for the driver's leisure. In that aspect, Esthar was very conservative.

Though it would have been nice, it was just one of the things Esthar wasn't prepared to give up.

Stopping just outside of the city limits of Winchester City, James climbed out of the car, the Estharian Soldier who had been driving doing the same. Even after slamming the doors closed, they approached the soldiers stationed at the entrance to the city, where James flashed his bag and both were granted access inside.

From what James saw didn't surprise him, considering the circumstances; directly in front of him was a sea of vehicles, with Estharian Soldiers waving the citizens through the gates that would lead them out of town. James also recognized a few of his own staff assisting in the evacuation.

He didn't know why they were still carrying on with the evacuation if the bombings had stopped; he didn't know much about it, but from what little he'd been told, the terrorists had promised to bomb a city every hour until Esthar's government stepped down. However, James understood that it was better to be safe than to be sorry, and didn't question it, instead opting to get back on the job.

Speaking of, he instantly recognized his vice-chief of security and headed straight towards her. For her part, Deilia saw him coming and turned around to greet him. "Welcome back boss," she said cheerfully.

"Hope you didn't get used to being the 'go-to person," James said, to which Deilia laughed.

"Actually, I'd rather be stuck on the back burner. You do a much better job at being in charge than I'll ever do." Her grin dampened slightly, and James could tell that what she had to say next was serious. "But is it really okay for you to come back on the job so quickly?"

James sighed; he had seen this coming. "The government needs all the help they can get. I'm well enough to help guide some people away from the town, and I'll sit out when I need to. It's not like I'm chasing a suspect and defusing bombs or anything like that."

"It's a miracle you're even awake," Deilia sighed. "But that's your call or the higher up's decisions. But I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"You sound like a couple other people I know," James said.

"Good!" Deilia responded, even as she went back to work. "Maybe then you'll actually listen."

James sighed before following her lead.

* * *

When they had heard footfalls outside of the room, they'd stopped what they were doing and kept an eye on the door, in case someone knocked. If anything, they could keep quiet and hope the visitor thought that Quistis was out. But when they heard the lock deactivate, they exchanged glances; as much as it could have just been Quistis and Seifer coming back, it could also have been someone else.

Fortunately, it was the former; the door opened and both blondes entered the room, Quistis closing and locking the door behind her. Seifer took his seat back in front of the laptop and started it up again.

Irvine was glad Rinoa had at least had the sense to shut it down again. Still, she'd tried to crack the code, but hadn't gotten anywhere. Eventually she'd given up and went back to watching the signal from the phone Squall had on him with Irvine.

"What was that all about?" Rinoa asked as Quistis sat down on the bed.

"They're stumped," Seifer said just as Quistis was about to say something. "They don't know why the bombings stopped."

"So they asked you?" Rinoa asked. Seifer didn't comment, but Rinoa seemed to think that meant yes. "And?"

"Didn't give them anything," Seifer said.

"Did you tell them that he's innocent?" Irvine asked. Seifer sighed loudly before swivelling around in the computer chair.

"And what the hell good would that have done? I've only got circumstantial evidence to show to those bigwigs. Unless we get some kind of confession from the terrorist heading to Galbadia Garden, we've got nothing to say on the subject. I'm not even really supposed to be looking into it. They suspected that I did, but I played dumb."

"Seifer's right, for once," Quistis jumped in. "If we had said anything at all, especially at this point, they would have concluded that we were just too closely involved. At the very least, I would have been suspended, and then where would that leave us?"

Sighing, the former Instructor leaned forward. "But enough about that. Any progress?"

"They started moving just about a minute ago." Irvine said.

"Are they still headed north?" Quistis asked, but Irvine shook his head.

"More like north-west; back towards Dollet, but somehow I doubt they'll stop there."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's a city in a country of Galbadian citizens," Irvine said. "Let's face it, Dollet and Galbadia haven't exactly been close over the years, but they'd be working together to capture the terrorists. The Adelists wouldn't wanna be spotted by a Galbadian official; seeing as how they're so touching about Estharian precense, what with the incident earlier on."

"Even four months ago, Galbadian citizens were still suspicious of Estharian emigrants." Rinoa pointed out. "It wouldn't have been difficult for them to spot them."

"If anythin', they're probably hidin' some place rural." Irvine added. "Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they continued north; it's the way they've been headin' so far."

"We should probably head them off," Rinoa said. "Find some way of getting to Deling City and waiting for our signal when we get a definite marker on the base. If they're passing Dollet, it might be closer that way, and Deling still has SeeDs stationed there; we could use them as packup."

"Sounds like a plan," Quistis said. "Any volunteers?"

Both Rinoa and Irvine exchanged glances. Irvine knew Rinoa wanted to go, if only to see Squall again, but he wouldn't have been surprised if Quistis shot her down; she was the world's only Sorceress after all; Garden would watch her like a hawk and it'd be damn near impossible for her to get away from SeeD long enough to find him. If anything, she'd inadvertently lead them to him. Seifer was also out of the question. Irvine gathered that the only real candidate would have to be Quistis, but that would mean they would have to move everything to another secure location.

"Cow-dung goes," Seifer said from his perch.

Normally a calm-tempered young man, Irvine was drawing near his limit with the constant name-calling. He definitely didn't appreciate being affiliated with shit and he was pretty close to smacking him. The only reason he didn't was because he'd learned from the others that Seifer loved starting fist fights; he wasn't about to sink to his level.

But still, Seifer was actually volunteering him to go, and he wanted to know why. "Who died and put you in charge?" he said.

"Rinoa's too closely attached. Obvious reason."

Rinoa scowled at him. Irvine had been right in his prediction. "But what about Quistis?"

"She's also too close." Seifer said. "She was his Instructor. Actually, most of you are too closely affiliated with him. You wouldn't be able to get away from SeeD long enough to search him out."

"So why would I be any different?" Irvine asked. "I've got just as much reason to be under suspicion as them."

"Actually, you've got the least reason to defect because of him," Seifer said. "Face it; only a handful of people even know you were at the same orphanage as the rest of us; they just think you're stickin' around because of the Messenger Girl. Sure you get along with Puberty boy, but you're also the most detached. They wouldn't watch you nearly as closely as the rest of us."

"There's just one problem," Quistis said. "How do we get him to Deling in time?"

"Since Esthar helped the SeeD teams get to their destinations, doesn't that mean the Ragnarok's not being used?" Rinoa asked.

"Yeah, but there aren't that many people who actually know how to pilot the thing," Quistis pointed out. Garden sent teams to Esthar right after the Sorceress War to learn how to pilot them, but there are still people learning the controls. And even if we could convince one of them to fly Irvine, there's no guarantee that it wouldn't get back to anyone else."

Irvine nodded in agreement. When the Sorceress War ended, while everyone else returned to the Garden, Esthar sent out a ship to bring in a select group of SeeD members who were willing to learn to pilot the Estharian aircrafts. Squall, Zell and Selphie had both stayed behind, since they'd already piloted the Ragnarok at least once before.

"Why wouldn't we explain the situation?" Rinoa asked.

"How would you explain how we somehow managed to locate the Adelist's base?" Seifer asked.

Rinoa seemed to think about it for a second before sighing. "You have a point."

The sharpshooter suddenly perked up; while true that the chances of finding someone who would report what they were doing to the Commander was pretty high, there was still someone else they could count on to keep it quiet. "What about Nida?"

"What about him?" Quistis asked, puzzled by the question.

Irvine wasn't surprised; on the rare occasion he managed to speak to him, Nida had mentioned that most people tended to forget about him; he was too plain to actually stand out on his own. "He knows how to pilot the Ragnarok. And I reckon he'd keep his mouth shut about the trip to Galbadia."

"How sure are you?" Seifer asked.

"I'm reasonably convinced that he won't." Irvine said. "Just leave it to me; I'll make my way to Deling. All I'll need is a constant update on their location."

"I think we can handle that." Rinoa said brightly. Irvine could tell she was definitely on board.

Quistis looked like she wanted to argue, but Seifer cut her off. "As long as you get to Deling, I don't fucking give a shit. Just figure out a way."

With that, Irvine left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

* * *

As far as she was concerned, she officially regretted her rejection of any assistance.

Though she had a vehicle she had access to, it had been a little more difficult than she had anticipated shepherding the supposed terrorist. Maybe she _should_ have brought Tilmitt and Dincht along.

She immediately shook the idea from her head. The two operatives had disobeyed orders and had almost been killed because of it. No, she'd rather have them do their jobs.

Still, Dincht had been so convinced that he'd seen this man in Deling and it would have served to have him present at the very least to fill in a couple of blanks.

If the need arose – and she doubted it would, given where she was headed – she'd call her forces over.

Having finally arrived, Riel had handed her prisoner over to the Garden personnel who were waiting for her at the front gate of Galbadia Garden. Together, they headed straight for the infirmary, where she waited until the prisoner was properly restrained and monitored before allowing the Garden Faculty to escort her to the Garden Master's office.

In comparison to Balamb Garden, Galbadia Garden was far bigger, probably housing nearly three times (if only that) of the SeeDs that were stationed in Balamb. Unlike Balamb, who trained SeeDs as mercenary forces, G-Garden was far less neutral. They currently were a part of a contract with Galbadia and regularly trained their students to enlist in the Galbadian military. However, those who chose to do so often transferred to Balamb in order to participate in the Field Exam.

Like Balamb, Galbadia had three stories to their building, however, their elevator only started from the second floor, rather than the first. From what Riel recalled, the dorms were located on the second floor while classrooms and other recreational rooms were on the first floor. Still, the head of the Garden's office was, as was the case in Balamb, still on the top floor, which was where she was currently headed.

Somehow, she couldn't get rid of the gnawing feeling that told her something was about to happen, and that somehow Tilmitt and Dincht are already knee deep in this mess. That was to be expected; Leonhart was their friend and former comrade; of course they would have a big part in this entire situation. As much as she knew how loyal the two were towards SeeD, she couldn't help but wonder if they were somehow playing both sides; whether they knew far more than what they were letting on. She planned to contact them and drill with for information as soon as the briefing with the Garden Master was completed.

* * *

Alicia Briar made sure she wasn't being watched before entering the infirmary. One of her co-conspirators was already dealing with the security cameras, and had alerted her to the knowledge that the desired cameras had been disabled.

It wasn't too difficult to get in; she'd already secured the access codes months before – just in case something like this were to have happened. When she'd learned that the prisoner was being taken to the infirmary, her first guess had been that whoever had captured him had done a number on him. But then her suspicion changed to believe that Garden was planning to interrogate him for information using chemical methods.

And knowing that the man they'd captured wasn't much of a fighter – why else would he have been caught? – she guessed that it wouldn't be long until he sung like a baby Chicobo.

No, he couldn't be allowed to talk. As much as this was for Conrad, this was as much for herself as well, because if Conrad was compromised, they'd start looking around for anyone else who could have possibly been in cahoots with him. And since he'd contacted her to do this in the first place…

She shook her head to clear it, her long dark curly hair swivelling from side to side from the movement. Careful aquamarine eyes watched the door and she pressed her ear against it, hoping to hear what was going on inside.

Obviously, that was a no-go.

Pulling out her .9 millimetre, she added the silencer she'd stashed into her uniform skirt's pocket and, counting backwards from three, she opened the door, opening fire as the physicians and Garden staff turned to look at her. Anyone who caught sight of her coming in and out of the Infirmary had signed their death warrant – no evidence of her presence must remain.

After making absolutely sure that everyone who had been standing moments before was killed, she lightly tapped aside their bodies and moved over towards the unconscious man. She wrinkled her nose at the tacky yellow tourist shirt he was wearing; why couldn't he have been wearing something a little less ugly looking?

Just as she came to stand next to him, she saw him move his head side to side – he was beginning to regain consciousness. What she'd originally been planning to do was shoot him in the head and be done with it, but instead, she opted for a little more creativity.

Grateful that she was wearing gloves, Alicia moved over to the stand that had been positioned next to the man, and grabbed one of the needles. She grinned as she removed the cap from the needle's point and pulled the syringe at the end back, filling it with air. She then waited for the man to slowly sit himself up and when he saw that the people around him were dead, he immediately moved back against the headstand – this had obviously not been what he'd expected to see upon awakening.

She stood with her hands behind her back, as she was holding the needle, waiting for him to finally acknowledge her. When he did, he was silent for a moment before he finally sighed in relief. "They sent someone to get me."

"First some questions," Alicia said. "Just what did you tell Dincht and Tilmitt? And don't tell me you didn't say a word."

When he didn't come forward immediately, Alicia knew that they had trouble. "Alright, I'll rephrase. _How_ much did you tell them?"

"They stopped my bodyguards," the man finally said carefully. "What did you expect me to do? Roll over and die?"

"This is war, Charles," Alicia snapped. The man – Charles – flinched at the sharpness of her tone. "We die for what is right; if you don't believe that much, then why did you sign up in the first place? Now, how much did you tell them?"

"…everything."

Alicia frowned. "What does _everything_ entail?"

"Everything, alright!" Charles snapped. "I told them that we were framing the kid for the murders and the missile launches; that the attempted assassination of Caraway and the attacks in Esthar were connected and that we were trying to resurrect Adel's ways!"

Alicia's frown deepened severely, fixing her features into an expression of wordless rage. "You could have just _lied_…"

"Yeah, right!" Charles said. "With Dincht practically breathing in my face _after_ the stunt I pulled in Deling _and_ after seeing him smash a bunch of boxes with magic? I'd like to see _anyone_ come up with a half-decent lie when facing that!"

"Bigger and better men than you have," Alicia said.

"Alright; I messed up. Can we get out of here now? Before the Garden officials come here and see the dead bodies?"

Charles went to leave, but Alicia levelled the gun in his face. "Wait! I thought you were here to save me!"

Alicia looked thoughtful. "Funny, I don't recall saying I was here to _save_ you."

"You bitch!" Charles exclaimed, his expression shifting to panic.

"Trust me; you're not the first one to call me that," Alicia smirked as she took a step forward. "and you probably won't be the last either. Now get off the bed."

Charles hesitated, but when she removed the safety from the .9mm, he quickly complied, slowly sliding off the bed and moving where she gestured him to move. He backed up towards the door before she said, "Stop there. That's far enough."

"So you're gonna shoot me in the back?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than it should've been. It pleased Alicia to know that he was terrified of her.

"Just shut up and do as you're told." Alicia said. "I might even let you pray to Hyne. Now get on your knees."

Slowly – very slowly – Charles did was he was told. However, Alicia moved forward, taking another .9mm off of one of the corpses and, after placing the silencer she'd used on her original gun on the new one, tucking it into her gun holster. She held the gun out to Charles before saying, "Take the gun."

He looked at her questioningly, and Alicia laughed. "Don't be stupid. It's empty. Now take it, or you're dead."

She placed the empty gun onto the floor, where Charles then picked it up, staring at her curiously. She crouched down next to him, which made his features break out in alarm. She revealed the needle she'd been hiding "Hold onto something," she said as she grabbed him by the waist eliciting a surprised yelp from Charles. She positioned the needle in an upward angle, aiming for the base of his butt-cheek. "There will be some discomfort."

He tried to wriggle, so she tightened her grip on him with her free hand before pushing the needle through the material of his pants, making sure it punctured the skin. He yelped suddenly when she'd hit her target before depressing the syringe down, until all the air she had filled the needle with was out.

When she rose to her feet, and laughed at the horrified expression that had crossed his features. "I never said I was going to shoot you for real," Alicia said sweetly.

Charles choked out some kind of objection, but eventually his words changed to startled gasps of pain as he clutched at his heart. He fell the rest of the way to the ground, attempting to move towards the door - away from Alicia – but eventually he stopped moving, the painful gasping that he was making was steadily dying down into pained mewing. Eventually, the sounds stopped altogether.

Using her index and middle fingers to check his pulse, she sighed in relief that he was dead. Making her way carefully over the body, she quickly walked passed the door, it sliding shut behind her as she made to return to her dorm. She already had an alibi set up in the unlikely case that she became a suspect. Contacting her comrade, she gave him the all-clear.

She'd already wondered about the consequences of her partners actions that would eventually lead to him pointing the finger at her, but that had already been solved; when he'd disabled the cameras inside and surrounding the infirmary, he'd done the same to the rest of the camera system. The Garden personnel would never know that she had had a hand in it, and Charles would take all the blame, having died of a heart attack soon afterwards.

Even as Alicia returned to the dorms, she grinned to herself. _Whoever said there was no such thing as the perfect murder was horribly wrong._

* * *

**03:40:39**

* * *

He was standing in front of his superiors, having known that this meeting had been inevitable. Up until this point, he'd been watching the events unfold, listening to the numerous status reports that had been given by his personnel, and authorising the responses to situations that had gone wrong. Needless to say, this had already been a very busy and strenuous day.

But then again, they had all expected it to be when they'd signed up for this.

However, there were still some things even he had to answer for; after all, it was his group that was acting up, and only because they'd brought forward the only idea that had a high chance of success.

"I assume you know why you've been summoned here," said one of the three members of the former governing cabinet. They were drafted in shadows, so he couldn't see their appearances, even though he had met with them and knew exactly what they looked like. The one who spoke was old than anyone he was currently working with, but with age came wisdom. This was why he and his other two cohorts were in charge.

"Of course, sir." He answered immediately. He knew that they did not tolerate anything beyond getting the job done. Pleasantries could wait until they saw results. "I apologize for the delay, but other tasks held my attention."

"And it is about time you showed up to give us your report," a woman this time – equally as elderly – said scornfully. Like the man who had spoken before her, she spoke with an old Estharian accent – of the mother language that the new government had all but completely abolished since their usurping. "One must not make his superiors wait, and frivolous apologies will not do."

"Just get on with the report, Tannel," the first man said.

Luthar Tannel took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before he set to work. "So far, things are progressing forward. If we follow the timeline, by the end of the day all of our hard work will pay off."

"We already know the wrapping of the progress," the second man spoke loudly and clearly through his own accent – the same as his cohorts. "We know the world is on the brink of panic and the knowledge that they believe Leonhart to be at the heart of it is also evident."

"We want news that no one else has obtained as of yet," the first man said. "The things the world does not know and will not ever know."

"Yes, of course," Luthar cleared his throat. "According to our personnel, the leading governments don't suspect that we're the ones who are responsible, and they won't know until the final phase of the plan has come to light. Our impostor has done an excellent job of convincing the world that he is who he claims to be."

"And what of the _real_ Leonhart?" the woman asked. "Won't he give us any trouble?"

"Actually, I received a report very recently that we have finally got him in our custody," Luthar explained. "And Seifer Almasy has also been sighted in Balamb Garden."

"Just having spotted Almasy isn't exactly good news," the first man stated flatly. "Just because you've seen him doesn't mean he's been dealt with."

"Which is what I must bring up next," Luthar said and he knew they weren't going to like what he had to say next. "Our mole in the Garden thinks Almasy is on to him."

"So Conrad has compromised himself?" the third man asked, to which Luthar shook his head.

"No, he only believes that Almasy suspects him. If he had any concrete evidence to back this theory up, he would have exposed him by now." Luthar cleared his throat once again. "However, I don't feel it would be prudent to ignore it. Almasy is intelligent; if he doesn't suspect him now, he will eventually."

"Well I don't see how difficult this situation could be," the woman sniffed. "We get rid of him."

"While this is true, Conrad feels that it may complicate things even further were something to happen to Almasy now," Luthar explained. "We'd previously agreed that upon discovering Almasy's location, Conrad was to find a way to get him out of the picture without compromising his position."

"So Greenwood feels that by killing Almasy, he would be exposing himself?" the third man asked.

"Eventually it would lead to his discovery, yes." Luthar said. "If Almasy were to be killed, the ones who would come under suspicion would be the select few who even knew about his presence. The whole of Garden has not yet been made aware of this information, so thus they wouldn't have known to actually do anything. It would spark an investigation that would eventually expose Conrad and, eventually, all of his contacts."

"Well, as you have said," the woman spoke up once again. "It appears as though we may take over within the next few hours, so why should it matter in the end?"

"But if something were to go wrong," Luthar started, but was interrupted.

"According to you, nothing should go wrong." The first man snapped. "The case is closed. See to it that Almasy never figures out our moles position, and if he already has, ensure that he doesn't mention it to a single person."

Luthar made an indignant sound, but stifled it quickly; it would do him no good to argue, especially if they'd already made up their minds on the situation.

"Now, is there any other business?" the woman asked.

Luthar frowned, but proceeded anyway. "According to other reports, the secondary operation is almost ready to commence."

"Give the word for them to proceed." The third man said. "It should only take another few hours before they're ready to go. With the bombings having stopped, the governments should be up in arms about possible theories."

Luthar nodded once, bowing respectfully as he did and left his superiors to his own devices. He had a few calls to make.

* * *

Conrad hung up his phone and placed it into his jacket pocket, breathing a sigh of relief. Alicia just gave him the good word; Charles was no longer an issue and all ends had been covered. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about in the long run.

Now all he needed to do was to await the inevitable report from Sanders. Thus far he'd proven himself to be an excellent actor, but that didn't mean he could just relax. Not yet anyway.

Because there was still the matter of Almasy.

He'd reported straight to Christopher, who had assured him the report would reach Tannel before his meeting with the heads, and now he was only waiting for a response. In the time it would take him to wait for a course of action to present itself, Almasy could've already compiled enough evidence to lock him up and throw away the key.

If that happened, then Leonhart would be exonerated; they would learn that he was the reason the Estharian squad had even known to look in Deling; had he not lowered the security parameters that had been placed to prevent hackers from finding the necessary records, they never would have learned of his location for his arrest. The records that would prove that he had been in Deling the entire two months – the reports he'd filed and the numerous operations he'd led to prevent Caraway's death – would be made public. They would be out one scapegoat and eventually the public would figure out the whole thing.

Four months of careful planning would have been ruined.

Finally, his cellular vibrated and Conrad reached back into his pocket to retrieve it. After taking note of the caller ID – there wasn't one – he answered it tentatively. "Yes…?"

"I have your answer."

Conrad was so shocked, he almost dropped the phone. Never in his entire career had he ever had the honour and privilege of receiving a phone call from the group head. Sure, he'd met Luthar Tannel on a number of occasions previous to his elevation to Commander Status, but he'd only really been in the background.

Not having seen the look of surprise on Conrad's features, Tannel continued to speak. "The council wants you to terminate Almasy."

Conrad's brow furrowed. "But what about my cover?"

"Once I gave my report, they were so enthusiastic of the progress that they believe that, once the operation is successful, you will no longer need to pretend to be on the enemy's side." Tannel explained.

"Yes, but that's only _if_ everything proceeds accordingly," Conrad protested, but was interrupted.

"Nevertheless, that is what has been ordered of you. Now, is there anything else aside from Almasy that could implicate you?"

"I assure you that my acting has been, as always, impeccable." Conrad said. "Though he was found carrying a laptop. We've had it confiscated but no one has had the chance to look at it."

"Is there a possibility that he may have information on that laptop that could expose you?"

"Only if he was deliberately looking for it," Conrad said. "Otherwise, there wouldn't be any real reason."

"I don't want to take the chance. Find that laptop and make sure that no one else has any access to it."

"I'm already heading to lock up." Conrad was indeed doing just that; having already risen from his desk and leaving his office, locking the door behind him.

"I'll be standing by," Tannel said and Conrad placed him on hold. As quickly as he could, Conrad made his way down the hall to a room. Typing in the code, he opened the door, and stepped inside of the locker, turning on the lights before he began searching for the label that the laptop would've fallen under.

Unfortunately, he spent five minutes in that locker, but there was no sign of a laptop present. Frowning, he left the locker and ran into a SeeD member, which was good timing since he was looking for one. "Who searched Almasy when he was apprehended?"

"Uh," the SeeD stammered, obviously flustered by the sudden question. "Xu was there, as was Timmins and Darok."

"Where are they?"

"Xu went on her coffee break, and Timmins was sent to help with the evacuation in Galbadia," the SeeD reported. "Darok should be in the security office."

Conrad didn't stick around to thank him; he ran down the hall as fast as he legs could carry him. It wasn't very long after that when he reached the room and called Darok out to speak to him. "Where did you put the laptop?"

"What laptop, sir?" Darok asked, staring blankly at the Commander.

Conrad was at his wits end; was he completely surrounded by incompetent fools? "The one that was confiscated from Almasy along with his gunblade when he was found in the Monster Den. What category did you place it under?"

Darok seemed to understand, but the expression on his face was one that Conrad didn't like. "We found those things on his person when he was found, but by the time I was asked to put them into lock up, they were gone. I assumed someone else beat me to it."

All of the colour drained from Conrad's features and he was sure that he was going to faint. The laptop; the one thing that could possibly screw him over in the end was missing. He had been careful; oh so very careful and now one measly little botch up was going to end it all. Worse of all, it wasn't even his fault, but he knew he'd still get the blame; it was under his watch after all.

"Sir, are you alright?" Darok asked, but Conrad was far from alright.

Turning back to regard the SeeD, he ordered him to get back to work before returning to his office. He was barely inside when he took Tannel off hold. "It's gone."

"What do you mean it's gone?" Tannel's voice came in loud and clear and Conrad was forced to swallow hard. It was taking all he could to prevent himself from panicking.

"I mean it's not in the locker where I thought it would be. I asked around, but the fool thought someone else had already put it away…" Conrad trailed of; a sudden thought crossing his mind before his panic was replaced with rage. "Almasy…"

"What's he got to do with this?"

"He must have stolen them back," Conrad said, his mouth going dry. "He's armed _and_ he's got something to expose me."

"Then rectify it." Tannel said. "Contact Cobatchi when you're done. No loose ends."

With that, Tannel hung up in Conrad's ear.

* * *

Rinoa and Quistis had only just gotten off the phone with Irvine – who had somehow managed to convince Nida to take him to Deling City – Seifer's cellular rang, and the former cadet was quick to answer it. He was silent for a second, listening to whoever it was that was speaking, before suddenly hanging up and announcing, "We have to go."

Both Quistis and Rinoa exchanged glances before Rinoa finally spoke up. "Why?"

"That phone call just now," Seifer said, immediately packing up his things – the laptop being shut off and placed inside of a carry bag. "was from Cid."

"The Headmaster?" Quistis sounded surprised.

"What did he want?" Rinoa's response came next.

"Oh nothin' much," Seifer said and from the tone he was being sarcastic. "Just giving us a heads up that the bad guys are heading our way."

"Why would they be doing that?" Quistis asked.

A thought suddenly crossed Rinoa's mind. "That laptop."

Quistis turned to look at her critically, but Rinoa paid no notice. "the mole must think Seifer's got some evidence in that thing; that's why Cid sent you back to Garden, right?"

"So he's on to us?" Quistis asked.

"No, he's onto me," Seifer corrected. "But if they find you two trackin' Cow Dung and Puberty Boy, you'll have a lot of things to answer for, so I suggest we all get the fuck outta dodge before they can catch us?"

"How long do we have?"

"Five minutes." Seifer said. "Maybe less, he wasn't clear." After he'd finished pulling his over-shirt pack on, he strapped the Hyperion – something else Seifer wasn't supposed to have – onto his back. "So if we're gonna go, then we're gonna go now."

"Hold on," Quistis said, grabbing something small and rectangular shaped. After a moment, Rinoa recognized it as a PDA. "If we leave now, Irvine will be shooting in the dark when he gets to Deling."

The former Instructor connected her PDA into the computer, and the satellite systems she'd managed to hack into began downloading into it. Rinoa, meanwhile, grabbed her pinwheel and strapped it to her left forearm before grabbing Quistis' whip – she figured she'd be helpful. Seifer was towering over Quistis like a tree, telling her to hurry it up.

After a couple minutes had passed, the PDA beeped, and Quistis removed it from the computer before pressing the button on the tower – shutting it down manually.

"Good!" Seifer snapped. "Let's get out of here already!"

* * *

Three sets of feet started down the path that would lead them to the Dormitory. Dressed in SeeD uniforms, many of the students who had been loitering immediately moved aside, afraid that they would get caught as they meandered elsewhere. It was hardly an issue for them; the students could have been on fire and they wouldn't notice them.

Shortly after getting off the phone with Tannel, Conrad had gone back to the security room and ordered everyone out while he searched the cameras. However, there was one camera that looped and he was able to locate it within three minutes. Immediately afterwards, he'd ordered his men – ones from the organization – who had headed to the room that had the loop.

Conrad watched through the security cameras located outside of the dorms, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see much, but also knowing that his men would find Almasy and deal with him accordingly.

If Trepe and Heartilly also happened to be there, more power to them.

His men had already gone out of view, and Conrad was forced to wait for them to report to him. And the waiting was what was killing him inside; knowing that unless they retrieved that laptop, their plans were in serious jeopardy.

Finally, he heard from his men and he sat up straighter, ready for the news. "Well?"

"We've found the room," one of his agents said. "but there's no one inside."

"What do you mean there's no one?" Conrad snapped. "I saw Trepe and Almasy barely a half-hour ago; they should still be here."

"It looks like they left in a hurry," the agent continued. "The best estimate is that they went through the window."

"Then find them!" Conrad snapped before disconnecting. Scowling to himself, he couldn't believe that their disappearance right when he'd been ordered to kill Almasy was a coincidence. No one overheard him; he'd made absolutely certain.

That's when he had a thought; he returned to his office, closing the door behind him before he started searching the room, pulling out books from shelves, looking under tables and chairs, anywhere that could possibly hide anything.

And he sure as hell found what he was looking for; bugs. Tiny, little transmitters that had been positioned inside his office. He'd found three in the last two minutes, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't the last of them.

Almasy hadn't been in his office for very long, nor did he have anything aside from the laptop and the Hyperion on him.

Conrad thought about it; he was very certain that they hadn't been in before; everything had been running very smoothly before Almasy had been found.

But that left only one other person: Cid Kramer.

_He knows too,_ Conrad thought to himself dismayed. _And if he knows, then it's only a matter of time before everyone else does._

* * *

She was sitting, alone, inside of the small space she had become accustomed to. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, which were pressed up against her stomach, her chin resting atop them. She'd been alone for a long time now; she could barely even keep track of just how long it had been.

It had been a long time since she'd seen the people she cared about; been able to walk out into the sun and breathe the fresh air. But the people who were keeping her there wouldn't let her do any of those things. They barely fed her and for the most part she felt drained, but they were keeping her alive. She couldn't help but wonder why. They didn't need her to be. It didn't make any sense.

Still, all she could do was hope that these people – these _terrorists _– didn't get what they wanted. Because if they did, then it was all over.

* * *

_**4:00:00**_


	15. Hour 15

* * *

Chapter posted: **03/12/2008**

* * *

**_The following takes place between 4pm and 5pm.  
Events occur in real time._**

* * *

He leaned back into the co-pilots chair of the Ragnarok, his arms folded behind his head and his hat tipped low over his eyes, giving the illusion that he was asleep. He tended to do this when he didn't feel like talking, and now was definitely one of those times.

It hadn't taken very much for Nida to agree to take him to Deling – the pilot probably wanted some time out of the Garden himself. Being the only one who had learned how to pilot the Garden, Nida hadn't been put on any missions as of recently. He could tell it was drivin' him stir-crazy – Irvine knew he wouldn't be able to put up being crammed into one place all the time.

Same could be said about Squall – which was probably one of the many reasons he had for stepping down.

Irvine hoped that the elder boy was alright; that he hadn't gotten it too bad. The sharpshooter wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, stupid; Squall had given the terrorists enough trouble in the last few hours, and the ones who caught him weren't gonna take too kindly to him, especially if they were right (and Irvine couldn't think of a reason why they couldn't be) about them being Adelists.

Thinking about their fight with the late Sorceress Adel, Irvine couldn't help but wonder what the Adelists would have done had they gotten her back; would they have overthrown the government immediately afterwards or would they have thought things out as well as they have? From what he'd learned, Adel wasn't exactly known for her patience and from her appearance he wouldn't have put it past her to just waltz right into the Palace and kill everyone who had ever cross her path.

Thanking Hyne that they'd managed to get to her first, he let the matter rest, albeit it took a little effort. He couldn't possibly begin to imagine a world with Adel at the helm; he hadn't been born during her reign (thank Hyne for small miracles), but it'd been some nasty business; something he never _ever_ wanted to experience first hand.

"Do you really think he'd do it?"

Irvine was brought out of his thoughts when Nida spoke for the first time since they'd left the Garden. It hadn't been too long since then; they still had a little under an hour before they arrived, but he'd anticipated a long quiet trip.

Still, he was curious about what was going on in Nida's head, and he figured he'd quit faking sleep and hear him out. "What're ya yappin' about?"

"Squall," Nida said and Irvine sat up straighter in his seat. He hadn't been expecting that one. "Do you think he'd really shoot missiles at cities, and hold Esthar at ransom, and then just suddenly stop out of the blue?"

Irvine knew he had to choose his words carefully; he knew Squall was innocent, but the rest of Garden was still in the dark. And since he didn't have any proof aside from Seifer's say, he didn't want to go down that road just yet. So he shrugged in response before saying, "There're a lot of things a lot of people didn't think he'd ever do. I don't know him all that personal like, so I reckon you're askin' the wrong person."

This got him thinking back to what Seifer had said and the very reason he was in this predicament. It wasn't that he didn't want anyone knowing he'd been raised in the same orphanage as the others; he just didn't think it was anyone else's business. If it came up in a conversation, he'd sure as happily tell anyone, but he wasn't going to touch that subject himself. There were just too many coincidences about their part in the Sorceress War and he didn't feel the need to feed that particular conspiracy to anyone else.

"I graduated at the same time," Nida said, still making conversation and drawing Irvine's attention. "As Squall, Selphie and Zell. I was assigned to Squad C on the field exam, but one of our team members got sick the night before, so it was just the two of us. We were inside the pub when we saw Selphie and Zell running past. When we went out to investigate, Squall came at us telling us to withdraw and to _run_ to the beach. A second later, we found out why."

Irvine was intrigued; he'd never heard a thing about the field exam previous to the incident in Timber and when he'd met them again at G-Garden. "What happened?"

"Apparently Squad B had disobeyed orders," Nida explained simply. "Seifer was in charge though, so what do you expect? Anyways, they were supposed to be securing the Central Square, but they apparently followed a bunch of Galbadian Soldiers to a Communications tower in the mountains. But this huge mechanical spider was chasing them back from the mountain – maybe they saw something they weren't supposed to. I don't know the details; I shouldn't even know about the situation, except I overheard Xu talking to Quistis about it later on. It was her squad after all."

"So what happened?" Irvine asked, getting Nida back on track.

"Squall gave us time to run off; he summoned Quezacotl to stall it, if not kill it. I could sort of tell that he'd ran the entire way – Selphie and Zell must've too, and I saw from our transport that he almost _bought _it trying to make it back to his squad's position. If Quistis hadn't blown it to scrap, I don't think we'd be having this conversation."

_In more ways than one,_ Irvine thought to himself but chose not to voice his opinion. "I don't see the point you're tryin' ta make."

Nida sighed before finally turning around to face him. The serious expression on his features startled the cowboy slightly, but he tried not to let it on. "He _saved_ my team that day, Irvine; he probably saved Selphie and Zell too. I could totally see how he got such a high mark on the exam. I don't care _how_ self centered or how much of a sociopath anyone is – because that's what I've heard people say about him – I don't believe he'd do the things they're saying he's doing."

"You saw the whole thing yourself," Irvine pointed out. "You even heard his confession."

"I don't care about that," Nida said, turning back to his job. "No one is that good of an actor; I don't care who they are or where they come from. Everyone has tells, Irvine, even Squall. And the person who confessed to Trabia Garden's destruction and to the attacks in Esthar didn't have any of those tells."

"You sound like you're sayin' you don' think that was Squall," Irvine said, wondering where this conversation was going to go. "And if that wasn't him, then who was it?"

"Probably someone trying to frame him," Nida said. "Squall's cold; I'm not the first to admit that, but that guy was arctic cold. Not even Squall's like that."

Turning to look at him with that same serious expression, the next thing he said surprised Irvine, "and I know you think so too."

Irvine blinked in confusion and Nida began his explanation. "I know you don't know him as well as anyone else around here, but you _got_ to know him during the war. You were on his team when everyone went to Esthar, and he obviously trusted you enough. Somehow, you're involved. That's why I agreed so quickly to take you to Deling. I just want to make that point clear."

Irvine looked away from Nida and stared straight ahead, afraid that if he was still staring at him, he'd give something away. After a moment though, Nida said something that surprised him once again. "I can understand if you're in a position where you can't tell me anything. Trust is the issue here, and I wouldn't want whoever else you're working with to have a reason not to trust you with anything."

The cowboy inwardly sighed in relief before Nida continued, "But there _is_ something I do want to know. I promise, no one will hear anything from me, and I'll act like I don't know a thing."

He hoped that it wasn't anything huge – he wouldn't be able to say anything. He knew he could trust Nida from the number of conversations they'd had in the last four months; knew that he was trustworthy, there was no issue there. But he had a much bigger loyalty to the others (minus Seifer, of course), and he didn't want to betray that trust.

"First, I am right, aren't I?" Nida asked. "About there being an impostor?"

"Before I say anything," Irvine said. "If I find out that someone else heard anything from you, your ass will have a full week booked for a meeting with my foot. Understand?"

Nida nodded solemnly. "Not even the Commander will hear this from me."

That was as good a word as any. Irvine figured he'd take it. "Yeah. That wasn't Squall talking at all."

Irvine hadn't been aware, but Nida released the breath that he'd apparently been holding. "Oh thank Hyne," he muttered under his breath. He definitely looked relieved. After a moment, he turned to look at Irvine before saying hastily, "Not that this whole situation is a good thing."

"I know what ya mean," Irvine said. "I thought the same thing. What was your question?"

Nida took in another deep breath. Irvine didn't think it was such a good idea to shock the pilot when he was in control of the aircraft and, remembering where the autopilot switch was, flipped it. The controls held and Nida watched Irvine as he leaned back into his chair. "We'll wait till you calm down before you do any more piloting. Your question?"

"Where are you _really _headed once you get to Deling?" Nida asked. "And don't tell me your grandmother's house, or I swear I'll crash this thing into the ocean."

Irvine laughed outright. Even if Nida didn't know just how ridiculous that statement sounded, it had done the trick of relieving the tension. "Don't worry, that wasn't what I was gonna say. More like my secret lover's house."

Nida went to flip the autopilot off when Irvine laughed outright again. "Kiddin'! I'm just yankin' your chain." He cleared his throat before speaking. "But in all seriousness – and you can't tell a single soul I told you this – Quistis thinks she's found the terrorists' base."

Nida stared at him in shock. "You're joking."

"This time, I'm not yankin' your chain, I swear." Irvine said, putting his hands up in defence. He didn't quite know just how serious Nida was about crashing the Ragnarok. "I just need to head to Deling."

"It's near Deling?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Irvine shrugged. "I said she _thinks_. It could be anywhere north of Dollet really."

"So then why Deling?"

"Do you honestly think I'm gonna try and take on a whole force of terrorists on my own, without junctions?" Irvine asked incredulously. "Do I honestly look that stupid to you? Obviously, I'm gonna need some backup. And as far as I can recall, there's still a group of SeeDs stationed in Deling."

Nida looked at him critically. "You do know that they're there to protect the Galbadian President."

"True, but a little birdie told me that the bombings have stopped and that there hasn't been an attempt on President Caraway's life since this whole thing happened. And from what else I've heard, the President isn't so sure another one's gonna come, so I don't think he'd be opposed to _lending_ those forces – and a couple Galbadian soldiers on top of that – to find the base and end all this."

"So… what are you going to tell him when he asks the Million Gil question?" Nida asked curiously.

"What Million Gil question?"

"Why the Commander didn't just contact him and ask the SeeDs to look into it themselves?"

Irvine opened his mouth before snapping it shut. He hadn't actually thought of that. Of course Caraway'd ask that. And when he couldn't give an answer, Caraway would know that something was wrong. He damn well couldn't tell Caraway that Squall was the reason they found the base – he wouldn't believe him and word would get to the Commander.

"Okay, so this plan obviously needs some fine tuning. So sue me." Irvine said, leaning back into his chair once again. "I'll figure something out."

"Want some help?" Nida asked and Irvine looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Hey, I wanna help, and if you can't think of a reasonable excuse, maybe I can think of one myself."

Irvine sighed dramatically; he had a point. "So… what would you suggest?"

* * *

The phone rang and she sauntered over, picking up the earpiece from its cradle and holding it against her ear. "Yes?"

"It's me," the familiar voice said and she sighed in relief.

"It's about fucking time," she snapped, keeping an eye on the door and making sure no one heard her.

"You can bitch later," the voice said and she frowned. She didn't like being told what to do. "Give your report."

"Logans regained consciousness a little over two hours ago." She answered sweetly. She knew he wasn't going to like the time delay, but that wasn't her problem; he'd taken his sweet time attempting to contact her, and now he could deal with being a little pissed. "He's back in the field, working with Oakwood to evacuate Winchester." She grinned slightly. "Not like it's gonna matter really, since you're not shooting missiles at them anymore."

The voice on the opposite end sighed, and she rolled her eyes. "Before you say anything, there wasn't anything I could've done. He was surrounded by guards and by the time they left him alone, he was already gone. I'm not compromising my cover just to go follow him like some lost puppy."

"Whatever," he said and she couldn't help but laugh. "Anything else?"

"Oh, you're gonna like this; he doesn't remember a single god-damned thing about the plane crash. The only one who does is Leonhart."

"And we've already got him." He continued.

She suddenly grinned. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"We're almost ready to proceed with the plan."

"Oh it's about time," she said, twirling around on the spot. "I've been getting stir-crazy in here."

"Only a little while longer and you'll be free again." He said. "But it's crucial that you find some way to knock off Logans before he has the chance to remember _anything_."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll use my telekinesis or whatever and stop his heart." She rolled her eyes. "I'll deal with it. I just won't sacrifice my cover _just_ to knock off a stepping stone."

"You're not being paid to talk back," the man finally snapped. "Just do your job and neither one of us will have to do business with each other again."

He hung up on her; the dial tone ringing in ear. Frowning she replaced it back onto its cradle. She honestly couldn't wait until she could put all of this behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she puffed out her cheeks and let the air out slowly, sighing when the act was done.

"It's been a very _long_ two months," she muttered to herself.

* * *

"Sir, there's been a problem,"

Garden Master Joseph Martine rose to his feet at the intrusion, and Agent Sanders turned around to see the man standing at the doorway. She had just finished her report to the Garden Master and was about to prompt him to contact Commander Greenwood.

"What kind of problem," Martine asked.

"The prisoner that was brought to the Garden is dead."

Sanders' jaw dropped in surprise, and Martine frowned. "He's dead? How the hell can he be dead when he was just brought in barely fifteen minutes ago?"

"He must have woken up and attacked the staff; they're all dead as well. The prisoner was found collapsed at the door and it appears he died of a heart attack."

"A heart attack?" Sanders echoed. The man nodded in response. "But he was in perfect condition when we brought him here. He fainted, but Operatives Dincht and Tilmitt didn't even touch him."

"Maybe the stress finally got to him?" the man suggested.

Meanwhile, Martine had just finished contacting his secretary to contact the Balamb Garden Commander. She was just doing working on that when he deactivated the intercom. "I assume the weapon used is in custody?"

"It is. The assailant dropped the weapon – a .9mm – when he collapsed. "We're confident that the ballistics will match; the weapon had been fired recently. There was a silencer attached to it – it's assumed he managed to smuggle it in."

"But I had him searched by Tilmitt and Dincht before bringing him here," Sanders protested. "I even checked him myself. There's no way he could have gotten one."

"Then get to the bottom of it," Martine barked. "If he didn't have it on him _before_ coming to the Garden, then he must have received it upon arrival. Question the personnel who brought him in. We might have a traitor who was working with the prisoner."

"It's possible that when the prisoner died, the accomplice got cold feet and ran off." The man pointed out. "Hopefully, they left some trace evidence behind."

"Sir, if I may," Sanders spoke, standing ramrod tall. "I would like to make a call myself."

"To whom?" Martine asked.

"To the two people who found him."

* * *

**04:12:07**

* * *

It had been a little over thirty minutes since he'd arrived, but he was starting to believe there wasn't an end to this city. Each car they guided through was replaced by at least seven more.

James blew out the breath he had been holding, even as he signalled for yet another car to pass him. He wasn't being paid enough to be some kind of crossing guard, but at the same time, he guessed that the only reason he was doing this was because of his recent accident. It felt strange to him that he couldn't recall exactly what happened, and yet the injuries corroborated the story he'd been told.

Still, something didn't feel right about all of this; it was like there was one big piece of the puzzle missing, and that he was the one who had to solve it. Honestly, he had no idea _how_ he was supposed to do that, or even how he factored in, but the feeling was still there. As much as he tried to ignore it, it kept coming back.

He winced slightly – his head had started to hurt a few minutes after he'd first woken up in the infirmary and had been disappearing and reappearing every so often since – and he would do anything to get some aspirin for it. He was wearing his sunglasses – the same glassed, he'd been told, that had recorded the events of the crash. Unfortunately, like his memory, the recording had been damaged, and the techies back at the palace were already working on it.

Taking off his sunglasses, he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, but once he did, he snapped them open suddenly. He was sure he had seen something; the only thing he could discern from it was that everything had been white. He could have imagined it, but then again it could also mean something important.

Signalling an Estharian soldier to take over for him, he moved to a quieter location and pulled out his cellular phone. Searching his speed dial, he found the number he was looking for and waited while the phone rang, hoping the person on the other end would pick up.

* * *

Christine answered her phone on the second ring, positioning the earpiece between her shoulder and her ear as she resumed her typing. "Lockhart."

"It's me, Chris."

Christine stopped typing, and turned her full attention to the caller. "James?"

"You sound surprised to hear from me."

"Well, I am. I thought you were working."

"Yeah, I am, I just needed to talk to you about something."

Christine could hear the indecision in his voice and could tell that something was wrong. "What is it?"

"Normally I wouldn't complain about it, but… it's kind of stupid really, but I've been having these strange headaches recently."

Christine leaned forward in her chair. She knew James wasn't prone to migraines. "How long has this been happening?"

"Since I woke up," James admitted hesitantly. Christine couldn't blame him; he knew how she felt about him going back to work so soon after the crash. "Look, this might not be anything, but just now, when I closed my eyes, all I could see was white."

"White?"

"Yeah," James continued. "I don't know why, but I think it might have some meaning."

"Could it have been snow?" Christine tapped her pen against her desk in concentration.

"Maybe. Why?"

"The plane crashed in Trabia, James," Christine explained. "The only thing up there _is_ snow."

"You think it might have something to do with my memory?" James asked. "You think it might be coming back."

"Well, it _is_ a possibility. I've heard of patients losing their memory for mere hours before suddenly getting it back. There was one case I heard of a woman who had been kidnapped from her family. Hit her head when she tried to escape, and for almost half a day, she had no idea who she was or who her family was."

"You think this might be similar?"

"It is possible, though it's only been about five hours," she checked her watch just to be sure. "Then again, you didn't forget as much as she did, so I guess all we can really do is keep an eye on it."

"You're not going to tell me to come back."

"James, I know you. If it's nothing life-threatening, you'll stay out there for as long as you can and nothing I say will ever change that. Just be careful, and if Deilia notices that something's off with you, listen to her and come back for observation. Regaining memory can be a painful thing."

"I'll keep that in mind," James said.

Christine frowned, but when she tried to get a definite answer from him, he'd already hung up. Scowling, he put the phone down and stared at her computer screen.

* * *

Christopher stood impatiently at the hanger bay, tapping his foot atop the steel floor. His arms were folded across his chest and he was dressed mostly in black. The doors had been left open for his people when they finally managed to arrive, and the autumn wind was making him cold. He really should have brought a sweater at the least, but he couldn't be bothered to go back.

He'd received word that his people were almost there with the package, and he could hardly wait. He'd personally never met the real Squall Leonhart, but he was definitely an interesting read. He silently wondered if he lived up to the praise that his files seemed to lead on, but gathered that they would eventually find out.

He'd also learned that Conrad was in some form of trouble in Garden, and that he would be the one the Garden Commander contacted once the situation had resolved itself. He didn't really like being the middle man, but at the same time, Tannel's time was precious. He just hoped it came soon.

Finally, he caught sight of the car he had had sent out in order to pick up his people. He took a few steps back in order to give them room to park – the last thing they needed was for their spokes model to get involved in a car accident. A couple minutes later, the car pulled up, followed by a few of the bikes his people had been sent out with in the first place, and the door to the hanger finally closed, cutting out the cold wind.

Still slightly cold, Christopher blew into his hands to warm them as he moved to stand next to the car. It wasn't one of the fancy Galbadian cars they'd seen in advertisements; more like a beat up looking jeep. Fortunately, it did the trick. The leader of the group, Dennis Howard, climbed off the bike he'd been riding and walked straight towards Christopher, grinning stupidly as he said, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd've thought we'd stashed you in the jeep."

"Yeah, you're so funny," Christopher snapped. "I haven't heard that one…" he rolled his eyes before moving to the jeep. "How is he?"

"Still alive," Dennis remarked evasively.

"That's what Elaina said," Christopher said. "I'd like a real answer."

Dennis sighed. "We roughed him up a bit. He decided to take a powder in the back."

Christopher took a look and, like Dennis had said, there was Leonhart sprawled out in the back, dressed mostly in brown save for the white t-shirt and black undershirt. There were a pair of snow goggles hanging from his neck and a toque covered most of his hair and face. Overtop the shirts and the brown vest he wore was a blue jacket.

Judging by the snow goggles and the toque, he'd probably had contact with someone in Trabia. He'd have to deal with that later. Right now, the most important thing was that Leonhart was finally in their custody.

"So this is the real thing," Christopher remarked. "Doesn't look like much, does he?"

"Looks like one of those punk kids," Dennis said.

"Still, I suppose one mustn't be too careful." Christopher conceded before turning to Dennis. "Has he been checked over?"

Dennis nodded. "Did just that before dumpin' him in the jeep." He held up a shoulder back for emphasis. "He was carryin' a bunch of one-use cellphones."

"Were any of them used?"

"Nope. They all still have the charge."

"Anything else?"

Dennis pulled two chains out from inside the bag. The first wasn't very long at all; possibly the length of one arm to the other were they stretched out at either side. The other was much longer; more like a mechanical whip. "The second one he got off Janie when she tried to pull him off his bike." Dennis explained before gesturing to the smaller chain. "This one looks like it's some kind of bike lock."

"How inventive," Christopher muttered before nodding to himself. "That's everything?"

When Dennis nodded his head, Christopher mentally sighed in relief. "Good. Take him to holding. Make sure he's securely locked up. I'll report to Tannel before I pay our prisoner a visit."

"Should we lock him up with the other prisoner?" Dennis asked.

"Tell me something," Christopher said in all seriousness. "Were you born stupid, or do you have a knack of simply trying to _be_ incompetent?"

Dennis looked offended, but Christopher just didn't care. "Put him across from her, but not in the same cell. They can see each other; they just can't come into contact."

Dennis nodded sharply before returning his men. A moment later, two of Dennis' men came up and managed to drag Leonhart's limp form out of the jeep before Dennis led the way to the holding bay.

Christopher left them to it in favour of giving his report.

* * *

They'd managed to secure themselves a vehicle on such short notice, but neither one of them were willing to ask any questions and set of towards their next destination. However, this time it wasn't with the rest of their team; they'd received contact from their Squad Leader a few minutes ago and were instructed to head to Galbadia Garden for further details.

Both of them figured that something had gone wrong with the prisoner.

"Think we should contact Quisty?" Selphie asked. They didn't have to worry about being overheard, since they were currently travelling alone.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Zell agreed and both of them activated the earpieces Quistis had given them before they had left. It would only take a couple seconds before they would patch into her cellphone.

Unfortunately, when those two seconds passed, they still didn't get anywhere. Both Selphie and Zell exchanged puzzled glances, Selphie biting her lip in anticipation even as Zell frowned thoughtfully while keeping an eye on the road ahead. Before heading out, he and Selphie had played rock-paper-scissors in order to determine who would drive and, fortunately for Zell, he had won.

But just when they were about to assume something had happened, they finally patched in. "Sorry about that," Quistis' voice was rushed. "What is it?"

"What took you so long?" Selphie asked immediately.

"We ran into a bit of trouble," Quistis answered. "We're in the middle of relocating."

"What happened?" Zell asked.

"Not important," Quistis waved off. "Anything new on your end?"

"We think something happened to the terrorist," Zell responded. "Our Squad Leader wants us to meet her at G-Garden."

* * *

"Make sure you keep us posted," Quistis said over the line before disconnecting. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, leaning back in the car seat she currently occupied.

Once the PDA had finished downloading the needed data, she, Rinoa and Seifer had high-tailed it out of her room through the window. For the first time in a long time, Quistis was thankful that her dorm was on the first floor. After that, they'd managed to sneak into the garage (using Quistis' access code of course) and hotwired one of the Garden cars before setting off for Balamb Town. Hopefully, it would take whoever it was that was after them a little while before they realized they'd fled.

Seifer was currently at the wheel – he'd complained about not being able to get his work done, but in the end both Quistis and Rinoa had told him to suck it up and deal with it.

"So when we get to Balamb, where are we gonna go?" Rinoa asked from the back seat.

"We could always hold ourselves up at the Hotel, but that might leave a trail," Quistis said. "I don't think the weapon's shop will let us hide out there, and the items shop is not an option either."

"What about Zell's house?" Rinoa suggested.

"Are you crazy?" Seifer shouted, turning to look at her marginally before returning his gaze to the road ahead. "I am _not_ hiding out at the Chickenwuss' house."

"Well it's just about the only option we have," Quistis said, flicking Seifer in the ear and eliciting a shout of pain from him. "And I wouldn't complain if I were you; at least it _is _an option."

Seifer glared at her from the corner of his eye by didn't retaliate; presumably because he was behind the wheel. Still, there was one call she had to make.

Whipping out her cellular once more, she dialled a specific number and waited as it rung. After the third time, the person on the other end picked up. "I never once thought I'd see the day where you called me, Quistis."

"Can it, Irvine," Quistis said sharply. "I know you aren't close to Deling yet, but I'm just letting you know to call my cell."

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing to worry about too terribly," Quistis waved off. She was getting tired of hearing that question already. "We just have to relocate is all. I'm also calling to let you know that the beacon has stopped; I think they've made it to the hideout."

"You don't say?" Irvine said. He sounded surprised. Quistis was too; she'd have thought it would take longer.

_Then again, they probably weren't moving on foot, especially if they had to carry Squall._

"So where is it?"

"It's just before the peninsula across from the Tomb of the Unknown King," Quistis said as they drove over a large feeling bump. She glared at him through the corner of her eye before resuming her conversation. "You're best bet would be to have Nida drop you and the rest of the SeeDs in Deling off, and work your way over."

"Sounds like a plan," Irvine concurred. "Thanks for the 411. I'll keep it in mind."

Quistis disconnected the phone call and sighed once again. She just hoped that everything went accordingly.

* * *

**04:28:32**

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was just how blurry everything seemed.

He quickly rectified this problem by blinking a couple of times until this line of vision became clearer, and that was when he realized his arms were suspended above his head. He reclined his head and discovered to his dismay that his wrists were being held by a strange kind of chain – it was sort of a bronzy colour, but it looked like water when it rippled. Each time he flexed his hands, the ripples moved more frequently, just like when the surface of water was disturbed. His feet barely touched the ground, but only if he inclined his foot vertically, but only because of his toes.

His jacket was gone; probably having been removed when he'd arrived – he had no idea how long ago that was. Examining his surroundings, he discovered that he was surrounded by three walls and an open space, but when he examined the space better (as well as he could from his current position) he realized that it was an invisible force field – designed to fool the prisoner into thinking they could just walk out once they – somehow – got out of their bonds.

Finally, he recognized the feel of cool metal against his forearms and, when he looked back up, he realized he was wearing two criss-crossing bangles on either arm. He recognized them almost instantly; Odine Bangles; normally designed to prevent the Sorceress from utilizing her magic. Somehow, Squall assumed they had been tweaked in order to do the same to those who weren't of Hyne's descent.

He heard a door open and shut from the far end of the hall and soon afterwards, footfalls that sounded as though they were heading towards his position. Squall tried to get enough of a footing in order to pull himself up and attempt to break the strange chains on his wrists, but he couldn't – something he'd assumed he wouldn't be able to. The terrorists had thought of everything.

"So you're awake now."

The voice startled him; forcing him to abandon his struggles, because the voice sounded so much like his own – and yet he hadn't said a word. He turned his attention towards the force-field once again, and was granted another surprise when he saw his doppelganger standing on the opposite end.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, it was like looking into a mirror – that is, it would have been had the impostor been suspended by his arms.

"We meet at last," the doppelganger said while wearing a neutral expression. "I must say that I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. But then again after you read about someone for so long; learn their mannerisms, their likes, dislikes, and uncover their personality so completely that there is nothing left to learn, it is to be expected."

"You don't know a thing about me," Squall finally said, his jaw clenched.

The other Squall nodded and made a sound at the back of his throat. "I don't?" he looked almost puzzled for a minute as he continued. "But I'm pretty sure I read everything there _is_ to know. Like, how you were abandoned at a young age and raised in an orphanage until you attended Garden. How you received one of the highest marks on the Field exam anyone has ever seen and that you were the second person in the entire world to masterfully wield the exotic gunblade."

"That's enough," Squall said, but the doppelganger continued on, his volume of his voice rising with each fact he gave.

"How your cowardly headmaster chose you to be in command of SeeD because he couldn't face a reality where he would have to kill his wife – the woman who raised you all those years ago. How a government put their faith in people _barely_ of age in order to take out their enemy because they _knew_ they couldn't stand up to her!"

"I said that's enough!" Squall said, only to go ignored again.

"I even read up on some of the things the rest of the world, have no idea about. Like the fact that your own father chose _not_ to take the responsibilities fatherhood bestowed upon him, and instead went in search of a little girl who isn't even related to him. I must say, that says quite a lot right there…"

"Shut up!" Squall finally yelled, the words echoing throughout the hall and staining the air between the two. The doppelganger stared at him critically for a moment before he snickered slightly.

"Well then," he said after he'd calmed down. "I guess this mean that I _do_ know about you."

"You're still wrong," Squall said, lifting his chin up defiantly. "_I'm_ not a _coward_ who blows up cities and holds a government hostage just to get what I want."

"But you would if it was under a contact," the doppelganger argued, before laughing and shaking his head. "You know something? Now that the wonder is gone; now that I'm having this opportunity to speak to you face to face… well, I have to say I'm disappointed. It might be because I took the mystery out of if by reading up on you beforehand, but at the same time, I think it might have to do with the simple fact that you're a very boring person in general."

"To you my life might be boring, but at least I live it instead of pretending to be someone I'm not."

The doppelganger nodded. "You have a point. Right now, I _am_ living your life, but only because it's convenient for me and my goals. You see, the good thing about being you is that when you make a demand, people take it seriously. You've definitely built yourself a fine reputation.

"But don't worry. If things continue to run as smoothly as they have, you can have your life back."

"After you've ruined it?"

"Well that," the doppelganger said, "is a matter of opinion. Then again, I might just be saying that because it's not my life, but that's where the differences lie. And once we've done our part, the world will be set to rights again."

"The way Adel ran it way back when." Squall stated and the doppelganger looked at him in awe.

"So, you've figured it out. You're definitely as smart as the reports say. Yes, we're trying to revive Adel's way of life, and it would have been so much easier had your father not ordered you to kill her the way you did."

"Would you rather we killed her any other way?" Squall asked. Soon after, he heard a whirring sound from above, and an instant later he felt an electrical surge running through his body. It took almost everything in him not to scream, but the sensation dissipated a second later. Still, the tingling and the discomfort he'd felt was still with him, and he slumped against his restraints. It took effort to raise his head, and even then he was certain he held an expression of confusion.

When he looked back at the doppelganger, he noticed a remote control in his right hand. The doppelganger shrugged almost casually before saying, "Do you like my little gadget? It's something I made in my spare time a little while ago. It condenses the water inside a metallic barrier, making it easier for electrical currents to run through it and concentrates its power on just one target rather than a whole group. It makes disciplining a single person easier, wouldn't you agree? Not to mention it's all controlled by the touch of a button. A perfect match, since I'm, of course, a button pusher."

Squall was still trying to catch his breath, but somehow he'd managed to get the entire conversation; he'd thought the chains had looked strange. It also explained why he wasn't touching the floor; if he could ground himself, he could prevent the voltage from running through him like it had.

"But getting back to the topic at hand, it was very cowardly the way you killed her," the doppelganger continued. "She was only just waking up from her two decades rest, and you just happen to show up and kill her when she wasn't at her best. And the worst part is the world praises you for it."

"The world praises us for it because she was a threat and she had to be stopped." Squall stated, though he felt no real need to explain himself. "And the fact of the matter is it had to be done."

"You didn't even give her a chance to retaliate!"

"Oh she retaliated," Squall said calmly. "She definitely fought back. And what did you expect us to do, just stand there and watch as she got stronger and stronger? That wasn't an option. If I had to do it over, I wouldn't have changed a damn thing about the way I did it."

"Ah that's right too," the doppelganger sneered. "Adel was busy absorbing the current Sorceress, wasn't she? Of course you'd have a personal stake in this. Her absorption – as you said about your job – had to be done."

"So you expected me to just stand there and watch as she absorbed her?" Squall said before he laughed – he actually laughed outright at the audacity of this man - before shifting his expression to that of all seriousness. "You're either really crazy or very stupid."

"And yet who's stuck in a cage?" the doppelganger asked before checking his watch. "And on that note, I have some work to get back to, so we'll end this conversation there. It was nice to finally meet you, Squall, it really was."

The doppelganger turned to leave but stopped suddenly, turning to regard him for a second before saying, "And by the end of the day, you won't have to worry about making amends with your father."

And he left, leaving Squall to puzzle over his words.

* * *

It didn't take them long to get to Galbadia Garden – the town they had been in was nearby. Upon leaving the car behind, both Selphie and Zell double- timed it passed the front gate, jumping the turnstiles as they entered the hall. The guard watching the turnstiles shouted at them, but they ignored her, making their way towards the stairs that would take them to the second floor.

They didn't need to go that far; the Garden Master and the Squad Leader were already on their way down the stairs when they reached the hall. Both Selphie and Zell stopped in order to salute and one nod form Martine set them at ease. "What happened?!" Zell cut to the chase.

"To put it bluntly," Sanders said, "the terrorist you both found is dead."

"What?!" Both Selphie and Zell exclaimed at once.

"We don't know the details yet," Sanders began to explain. "Security suffered a short to their equipment which disabled the cameras for the last forty-five minutes, but from what we know, the terrorist attempted to escape, but suffered a fatal heart attack."

"But he was in perfect shape when we found him!" Zell exclaimed. "We didn't scare him all that much! He shouldn't have died!"

"I said that's from what we know," Sanders said. "But that doesn't explain a couple of loose ends."

"Loose ends?" Selphie asked, to which Sanders nodded.

"Along with the murder weapon, a silencer was found," Martine explained. "But Sanders had him checked over before transferring him here. It's impossible for him to have received it unless he received it from someone else."

"You think someone in this Garden's a traitor?" Selphie asked.

"After everything that's happened today, I wouldn't be surprised." Sanders shook her head. "And with the security camera's down, we don't have any leads to follow; they're probably still in the Garden though – we had it locked down when we realized what had happened – but we don't know where to look."

"I know that you've already determined the COD," Selphie started, "but can we maybe take a look? There might be some evidence left behind from the accomplice."

"I'm fairly certain that we would have found something when we initially searched the body," Martine said.

"Yeah, but it might be something so inconspicuous that even trained professions wouldn't know what to look for." Selphie added. "And another look wouldn't hurt. Who knows? We might uncover something else."

Selphie could tell that Martine didn't like the idea of double-checking his people's work, but he nodded anyway. "You may look if you want to, but I doubt either of you will find anything."

* * *

As soon as the doppelganger had left, Squall had managed to exhaust himself trying to break free of the chains. He'd originally tried getting them off because they were annoying, but knowing that they could concentrate bolts of electricity through him at the push of a button was just unnerving. It was too much of a reminder of the D-District Prison for his tastes.

When he was thoroughly worn out, he growled out of frustration, before staring up at the ceiling where the chains were connected, and attempting to look for a weak point. When he got his energy back, he figured he could haul himself up by using the chain as leverage and attempt to break it somehow. But so far, he couldn't find one and it was becoming increasingly aggravating.

Still, his pride refused to let him think for a minute that the doppelganger knew everything about him. Just because he somehow managed to get a hold of a file on him – and that said file was almost as thick as the one on Seifer, which was a feat in itself actually – didn't mean he knew him at all.

"You're only going to tire yourself out."

The voice came directly from across from him, but up until that point, Squall had thought he'd been left alone. The voice was feminine; it sounded hoarse and tired – like she'd been undernourished. It was fairly dark in the hallway, so he couldn't make her out, but when his eyes began to focus, he could see a dim outline of her figure. She was sitting with her back against the wall; her arms wrapped around her legs.

She wasn't a stranger though; her voice was familiar to him and he immediately recognized it. "Elle?" he asked tentatively.

The girl moved from her sitting position, crawling on all fours over to the empty space in front of her – presumably another force field - where he could see her better. Sure enough, it was her – or at least someone who looked like her; her normally short brown hair had grown to barely reach her shoulders, and she was wearing a white short sleeved night gown that looked like it barely reached above the knee, no longer a brilliant white but having been dulled by their surroundings. She was barefoot – almost like she'd been kidnapped right out of bed.

As much as he thought it was Ellone, he couldn't be completely sure just by looking at her. The terrorists could have set this all up to ensure that he stayed put. Though the likeness was uncanny, it could just as easily be an impostor.

She must have sensed that, because she sighed. "I don't blame you for not believing that I'm me. I guess they have a good actress to take my place. I'm not even really sure how to prove who I am."

Squall frowned thoughtfully. Because of his usage of GF's, his long term memory was sketchy at best; only when prompted by reminders of the past did he actually remember anything at all – which was why he and the rest of his team (minus Irvine) were required to write in journals – in order to prevent any further memory loss. No matter what he asked the girl, he wouldn't know the answer himself, which was no confirmation at all.

Suddenly he thought of something; a possible means of getting the truth. And only the real Ellone could pull it off. "Send me to the past."

The girl across from him looked up at him, surprised by the sudden request. "What?"

"Send my spirit into the past," Squall repeated. "It doesn't matter where or when; anywhere's fine."

Ellone looked uncertain but nodded after a moment's hesitation. "Alright. Get as comfortable as you can."

Squall rolled his eyes, careful that she didn't see; nothing about this was comfortable. Still, he tried his best to will himself to relax. There had only been one time he'd ever requested he go back; after the Lunar Base had been destroyed by the Lunar Cry when he'd wanted to save Rinoa.

He'd lost count of how many times Ellone had used her powers on him, but regardless he knew the signs well enough to know what was happening to him.

And just when he thought it wasn't going to happen; he felt it - a strange nauseous feeling nearly overtook him and a sharp piercing sound echoed in his ears loud enough to make him wince. He would have used his hands to cover them had he been able to, but it no longer mattered as he slumped against his bindings into a forced sleep.

The next thing he knew, he was back in Esthar; the familiar white coloured walls and blue translucent flooring that always seemed to set him on edge. Those walls that surrounded him passed him by in a continuous cycle – almost as though he were moving. Since he himself was not willing himself to do so, he realized it had worked; he really was in the past.

Which proved that the real Ellone was really sitting across from him in the Adelist's hideout.

With that question answered, more flooded into his mind, primarily the question of how she'd gotten there in the first place, or even how long she'd been missing.

The person he was viewing his surroundings through turned a corner, his hand on the side of his head – Squall could feel some sort of eye-wear but he couldn't be sure – and a voice that wasn't his own started to talk. "All units, we have a situation; there are intruders in the Presidential Palace. Section 1, your first priority is to bring the President to a safe location. Everyone else, keep an eye out for the intruders and don't let them find the President's niece."

Squall immediately recognized the voice; it belonged to the Chief of Security, James Logans. The last time he'd seen the man, he'd tossed him out of a plane and cast a float spell to ensure a safe landing. He'd heard that he'd been in critical condition ever since.

"Operative Leonhart is heading off a group of them in the southern wing," Logans continued, oblivious to Squall's inner musings. "Units closest to that location are to assist him in any way."

Logans cut off all communication once he'd received affirmatives from all his teams and continued down the hallway. Squall at least knew when they were; he was back at the Palace two months ago, where he'd been sent to observe the continuing negotiations between Esthar and Galbadia. He also remembered the attack, and that he'd told Logans to go find his sister while he distracted the enemy.

Ellone must have taken him back here, and now he was seeing exactly what had happened before he'd managed to catch up to him.

From the looks of it – and it had been a very long while since he'd been on a leisurely visit to Esthar – Logans was heading to the Presidential suite, where Ellone's room was located. No doubt Logans had opted to intercept the intruders before they could get to her.

A scream sounded down the hall – Ellone's voice – and Logans ran towards the sound, rounding the corner and pulling out his standard issue weapon – a .9mm Beretta. He fired once, twice, hitting his intended targets and missing Ellone entirely though she still screamed – she never did like the sound of gunfire; something from her childhood. The two assailants – who had been forcefully dragging Ellone somewhere – fell to the ground, the shots having hit their mark, even as Logans ran over to check on Ellone. The girl had fallen onto her knees and was crying inconsolably. From the looks of it though, she hadn't been shot.

Logans then turned his attention towards one of the would-be kidnappers – he was slowly trying to sit up with the bullet wound in his shoulder, but Logans managed to pin him down, ushering Ellone to stand against the wall where he could see her. "What were you planning to do with the President's niece?" he barked out.

However, before the assailant could say anything, machine gun fire sounded from behind, forcing Logans to grab Ellone and duck into a nearby room. The door was left open – Logans was keeping his foot in the path of the sensor to prevent it from closing – and he watched as the man was torn to shreds by friendly fire. Logans then poked his arm out from inside the room, opening fire and taking down the enemy.

When nothing else happened, Logans tentatively stepped out into the hallway, inspecting the area in case there was anyone else. Evidentially, there was no one else.

Stepping back into the room for a moment, he managed to coax Ellone out into the hallway, who soon afterwards collapsed onto her knees, still crying as hysterically as she had when the gunfire had begun. More of Logans' men came around the bend – weapons at the ready – before they moved towards him for further instruction, but it was the person that was following them that caught Squall completely off guard.

He was looking at himself.

However, unlike the doppelganger, he knew this was the real him, because he remembered coming around the corner to find Ellone hysterical, both she and Logans completely surrounded by Security and soldier alike, moments before everyone had given the all clear.

And just as quickly as it had begun, his surroundings darkened before he slowly opened his eyes and found himself back in the prison he had first awoken in in the first place.

Across from him, Ellone was resting against the wall beside her – using her powers seemed to have taken its toll on her. The nauseous feeling was beginning to lift, and the piercing sound was already fading away, but it was Ellone who looked up at him first, offering him a small smile that seemed to take effort to form.

Squall didn't look at her with forced indifference as he had when he'd first spotted her; he could tell that he was watching her in concern, hoping that she was alright; that the terrorists hadn't actually _done_ anything to her and that if they had mistreated her in any way he would pay them back a thousand fold. "It's really you…" he said barely above a whisper, yet somehow she heard him; she nodded her head in response.

"I was hoping they wouldn't find you," Ellone whispered back, almost as though she were afraid that someone was listening in. "It was the only thing I could really do."

"How did you get here?" Squall finally asked the question he had been dreading the answer to. "How _long_ have you been here?"

Ellone's smile turned into a sad one, and he wished he could change that, but he needed to know – if for his own piece of mind. "Two months," she said, starting with the second question. "I've been here for two months."

"But Logans' found you before they could kidnap you," Squall protested. "I was there; I saw him…"

"That girl wasn't me," Ellone interrupted, and he could tell that she'd bottled up the emotions that knowing that had caused. She looked on the brink of tears. "They separated into two teams after they grabbed me and sent someone who looked like me – who _sounded_ exactly like me – in my place. _That's _who James saved that day."

"It's the same trick," Squall said dumbly. Ellone nodded solemnly.

"It fooled everyone," Ellone said. "Why not use it a second time?"

All of this time, there had been someone masquerading as Ellone; living her life and probably relaying what she learned back to the terrorists while the real Ellone was left to sit alone in a cell. He couldn't even begin to imagine the thoughts that must have ran through her mind, but he could at least relate. It made him feel awful though; he should have been able to tell the difference between the two, and yet he'd been fooled just like everyone else.

He could no longer fault anyone for believing that he was guilty for all the things his doppelganger had been responsible for, because he'd done the exact same thing to one of the people he held closest to him.

"Elle, I…" he started, but was cut off.

"Don't start," Ellone pleaded. "Don't blame yourself; they did it that way on purpose. No one could have known to tell the difference. What's done is done; we can't do anything about the past, but learn from it."

_It still makes me feel like shit,_ Squall thought to himself, but for her benefit he tried to let it sink into the back of his mind. He could process it later.

"They've been planning this for months now," Ellone explained, seemingly pulling herself together. "Ever since Adel was killed. From what I can tell, that guy that was in here before is the brains behind the operation."

"Figures," Squall muttered. "They know about me and Laguna."

"I know," Ellone said. "I overheard someone talking when I tried to escape the first time. I don't know how they could've found out."

"That makes two of us then. Do you know what their plan is?"

Ellone shook her head. "I only know what happened two months ago, what's happening now, and bits and pieces of other things I've heard… but they don't make any sense."

"We'll start with what happened two months ago," Squall said. "Do you know why they came after you?"

Ellone shrugged. "Probably to get to Uncle Laguna. Aside from my powers, there's not much else I'm useful for… But I _did_ hear them say that the operation was still a failure, despite them bringing me here."

"What else could they have been after?"

"_Who_ else," Ellone corrected. "I pretended I was asleep, so they wouldn't realize I was listening in, but I wasn't the only person they were looking for."

She paused, and Squall waited for her to continue. It was a little while before she did. "Think about it. They've got two body doubles running around. This wasn't a coincidence, Squall. They weren't only looking for me, but they wanted you too."

"But you said people close to Laguna." Squall protested.

Her sad smile returned. "Regardless of how things are between you two, Uncle still loves you very much. Anyone can tell just by looking at him. I know he'd give anything to go back and set things to rights, but he can't. Now for some reason, these people targeted us because we can get close to Uncle Laguna, and if you honestly don't believe that, then you're lying to yourself."

"Wait… You said they needed people to get close enough to Laguna. Why?"

Ellone shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe to monitor him; see what he's doing and how close he is to figuring all of this out? What do you think?"

"The first thing I think of is the terrorists are putting their people in position." Squall said carefully. "If it were just for information, then the traitors they have in the Estharian Palace would've been enough. But it wouldn't make sense that they wanted to replace me with a body double, because I don't have access to any of the intelligence that they would need."

"In other words, I should have been enough," Ellone summed up.

Squall nodded, still thinking. "It'd have to be something bigger if they needed the both of us."

A thought suddenly struck him and while he had to admit that it fit, it wasn't an easy concept to deal with. He debated on whether he should tell Ellone, but after a moment's thought, he realized that she needed to know in case anything happened.

"…Sis. I think they might want to kill Laguna."

* * *

"So where exactly are we in this?" Christopher asked.

He had contacted Luthar a little while ago to report his progress, but now he needed the go ahead to initiate the final phase. He'd also contacted the girl's body-double – an assassin-for-hire named Claire Oxburg – in order to ensure the loose end in Esthar was tied up before he could do anything. "Leonhart and the girl are relatively secure in their prisons, and the world is wondering what we're planning next."

"Have you heard anything from Conrad?" Luthar asked from his end, and Christopher sighed; he'd figured this had been coming.

"No. I'm assuming he's still dealing with the problem in Balamb." Christopher sighed. "But what if Almasy already had a chance to speak to someone about his theory? In case something happened to him?"

"Almasy isn't that cunning," Luthar assured. "In fact, I'd go as far as to say he works with what's handed to him. He's too arrogant to think that anything will happen to him and, unless it was an accidental slip, no one else would know of anything he _might_ know. Still, it's better to be safe than to be sorry, so anyone found in his company should be terminated as well."

"I believe Conrad knows what he's doing," Christopher stated.

"Well, I hope you're right." Luthar said. "How goes things in Galbadian."

"With everyone's concentration so fixated on the lack of missile launches, I'd say we're on schedule. Because they think it's an Esthar problem, they're not looking for anything suspicious in Deling."

"Make sure it stays that way. Keep me posted."

"Of course."

"With any luck, the outcome of Galbadia will be enough of a distraction to cover what we're doing in Esthar." Luthar paused for a moment before continuing. "Speaking of, I need you to head on over. Since Oxburg will have her hands full with Logans, the task will fall onto you."

"Ironic, really," Christopher commented. "I'll head out as soon as I can."

"Make it sooner than that, Christopher. I know you can." Luthar said before the call was disconnected.

* * *

**04:48:22**

* * *

"You can't possibly have searched the whole of the Garden already!" Conrad snapped at the men standing before him in his office. He'd spent nearly the last hour searching his office, locating every bug that had been planted and crushing the hell out of them. When his men had reported that Almasy had 'flown the coop', his first guess was that he was hiding in the Garden like he had before.

"We've looked all over," on of his agents wearing a SeeD uniform stated, confirming Conrad's worse fear. "and checked the security cameras. But we haven't been able to find him."

"Then contact Trepe and Xu," Conrad said, running his hands irritably through his hair. "They'll be sure to find him."

"Sir, we haven't been able to find Trepe either," the same agent reported. "Or the Sorceress for that matter."

There was a knock on the door, and upon allowing the intruder entrance, they discovered it was one of their own. Conrad signalled for him to close the door behind them before speaking – which he did. "I just caught a glimpse of Almasy on the security cameras."

"Where is he?"

"He was in the garage. He managed to secure a vehicle and, with it, left through the garage entrance."

"Was Trepe or Heartilly there?" Conrad asked.

"I didn't see them on the footage, but I did check the registry to see who accessed the garage – it was Trepe's access code."

Conrad froze for a second; so it had come down to this. He had been told that should anyone else be spotted with Almasy that they be terminated. He didn't know how that would fit into their plans, but orders were orders. He wouldn't receive punishment for disobeying them.

"Search everywhere within a one mile radius. It's possible that they're heading to town, but don't let them get that far. If they should, then issue a lockdown and make sure they don't make it any further than that!"

* * *

"For the purpose of the tape I wish to confirm the presence of Seed Tilmitt who is overseeing the autopsy for Balamb Garden. Initial physical analysis suggests that any struggle to bring the prisoner into custody has had no effect on the body. There are no fractures that can be observed, aside from a slight inflammation to the area around the cerebellum; possibly caused by a minor fall before death"

Selphie watched from the corner of the morgue as Dr. Cardinal – the coroner overseeing the autopsy – continued to look over the corpse, while reporting his findings to a small recorder positioned on a table near the body. Zell had left a few minutes earlier with the doctor's assistant – Dr. Angela Paul – to look over the terrorist's (His name was Charles Denier) clothes – if it was foul play, then there might even be some fibres that could help narrow the search.

But the way the coroner was going over the body was seriously creepy; it was as if the guy had a new toy; something he could just pick at and do whatever he wanted to. Just thinking about it made her shudder; dead bodies were creepy enough, but the thought of some crusty old man having whatever way he wanted with them? It was enough to make her want to puke.

"The flesh and muscles are showing no signs of decay that has been accelerated in any way. While it will require a full toxicology, there are no preliminary signs of poison or any other chemical foul play."

"Are there any unusual holes in the skin? Any at all?" Selphie quickly asked.

"Analysis of the skin has so far revealed no imperfections or perforations that do not appear out of the ordinary. For the benefit of the tape, during the incision no sign of suspicious activity around the chest was noted." The Doctor took a swift breath before advancing upon the shaven head of the corpse. "I am now going to analyse the face of the deceased..."

Selphie turned and took a few deep breaths, angrily berating herself silently - the doctor had warned her that it was not for those of light stomachs. Of course she'd seen dead bodies before, but it was just the way he plucked his hands on the face and began to get up close and personal with it. The thing was a rotting shell! Who'd want to be near such a disgusting thing?

"The tip of the forehead has lines that have stiffened over the eye-lids; this suggests that the patient was going through some form of rapid eye movement..."

He paused for a moment and shone a light under the collapsed lips. "The pupils are only half-visible; the balls of the eye have retracted and are aligned towards the brain."

"It sounds like there was some kind of struggle." Selphie added thoughtfully.

"Struggle or not, no cause of death is yet determined." The doctor said almost distractedly, before pouring his eyes over the nasal passages. "The airways are clear, though it would require a bromine solution run through to be certain, asphyxiation looks unlikely."

Selphie felt an inner fury boiling beneath her skin, and clenched her tiny hands into fists; the doctor was so hung up on the evidence that he couldn't see the obvious. The prisoner – the one she and Zell had worked so hard to capture – had died less than an hour ago, going from completely healthy to completely dead. It didn't take a genius to see that something had obviously happened to him.

"The area around the throat is clammy and damp. The secretion of a surplus amount of sweat makes it obvious that the death was an internal cause. With the airways clear and no sign of immediate trauma upon the brain, I shall examine the chest area, specifically the coronary muscles."

Selphie watched and squirmed at the sight of Dr. Cardinal plunging his gloved hand into the open flaps of skin. Gruesomely he pulled back the open flesh and clamped them so that the chest was fully visible. "The veins around the heart are showing signs of increased blood passage. The capillaries have expanded and there appears to be a presence of blood that has seeped onto the muscle around them."

The SeeD watched as he suddenly pulled the dried heart out of a nearby tray and shone a light upon it. Swallowing her fear she advanced upon the table to get a better look for herself as he worked. "For the benefit of the tape I have just cut a large slice through the centre of the heart and split the organ into two pieces for analysis."

The doctor began prodding at the Ventricles, Vena cava and Aorta for signs of any related damage to the blood seeping found in the analysis. At first nothing was forthcoming, until he could see that parts of the heart wall had bent inwards, as if it had stopped mid-beat. The Aorta was also twisted in a peculiar fashion. A final inspection of the right ventricle revealed a residue that suggested the organ had become flooded with the blood it was to pass around the body.

"The organ is showing multiple signs of arrest." Doctor Cardinal announced before pointing to the findings he had recovered from the heart. "The lack of blemishes in the skin and fractures to the bones suggests that this death was not caused by any unnatural means. I record a verdict of death by natural causes, brought on by a severe cardiac arrest." The doctor reached for the tape recorder.

"Wait a minute!" Selphie shouted, catching the doctor's full attention. "He died within an hour of being in your custody, and since we never signed him over to Galbadia, I demand to inspect the body myself!"

The doctor looked dumbfounded before laughing outright. "For purposes of the records, SeeD Tilmitt wishes to subvert medical analysis for her own scan!"

She growled stubbornly, and pulled on a pair of gloves. "All the main areas have been found clear. Is there any other possibility of foul play?"

The Doctor shrugged. "All the main possibilities are covered; where else could you induce a heart attack? Unless toxicology throws up some form of drug to bring on the effects, he died a natural death."

"He could have been attacked by something different…" Selphie said thoughtfully, inspiration hitting her. "Like another entry way. Like the _bottom_." She added an exasperated tone, implying something about the doctor.

Cardinal laughed further. "For the purposes of the tape, SeeD Tilmitt wishes to inspect the back passage!"

Selphie's face turned bone white, but it was on record. Cardinal raised his hand to the rear of the corpse, as though ushering her to take a look. Swallowing her vomit, Selphie rounded on the rear entryway.

Selphie's face creased up as she felt the firm cheeks in the palm of her gloves. Her eyes rolled inside the lids with revulsion. Ignoring the impulse to pull away and quit, she forced herself to. Taking a full look at the flesh, she frowned when she couldn't see anything; it was white and showed no signs of trauma. Much more calmly than she would have expected herself, given the circumstances, she reached for a small light and shone it over both cheeks, still finding nothing.

Jaded and demoralised, she was about to pull out when a small speck of darkness was highlighted under the corona of white. Curious she reached for a magnifying glass and nearly shrieked in delight as she saw it.

"There's a blemish on the left cheek," she called to the tape recorder, her voice taking on an excited tone. "It's really faint and barely a micrometre in width, but it's the sole blemish and it stands on its own."

Cardinal spluttered in shock and wandered over. "For the purposes of medical analysis I am providing a second opinion." His statement was uttered through nervous lips; a sign that he was suddenly unsure of his earlier conclusion. The doctor looked on aimlessly before he pulled out, the expression on his face showing that he too saw the small prick of darkness. It was almost like someone had picked at a white canvas with a black ballpoint pen. "There is indeed a blemish. I am going to analyse the rear chamber closely to see if there is evidence of some foul play."

Selphie beamed in delight as she watched him don the gloves and go into the flesh, discomfort having been forgotten. The small optic camera that he held in his hand granted a live feed of the inner body that she turned to observe. At first they both didn't see anything, but that changed when a large sign of blood that had seeped from a vein filled the lens. A ruptured capillary hung flaccidly inside the body.

"An inner rupture suggest some form of physical trauma in the lower part of the body, a further analysis will be required before a conclusive verdict can be recorded. I retract the earlier cause of death and change that status to inconclusive. Full toxicology and scan of the colon areas shall be performed before a final verdict is recorded." Cardinal hit the switch and killed the recording.

"A natural death huh?" Selphie said triumphantly. "Told you so!"

"Don't start with that!" He snapped back; the expression on his face showing that he disapproved of people showing him up. "What you have found could be little more than a piece of shrapnel that he had sustained in a fight ages ago and the rupture had finally been caused by it being dislodged."

Selphie stared at him for a second, wondering if he was serious. From what she and Zell had both seen of this guy, he didn't look like he'd fought a day in his life. Still, she guessed that anything was possible, with what they've been through already.

"Though I must say – off the record – the timing and the area of the wound seems somewhat suspicious," Dr. Cardinal admitted. "But until I receive anything proving such a point, that does not leave this operating theatre."

Selphie nodded, but inside, she was jumping around, pumping her fists and shouting 'Whoo-hoo!' at the top of her lungs. She'd found something that could suggest this Denier guy had an accomplice. With that _and_ the presence of the mysterious silencer was enough to prove that someone else had been present.

As she left the room and prepared find Zell to gloat over her findings, she suddenly stopped, shuddering as she just remembered she'd had to touch a dead guy's ass. "Totally gross," she moaned as she continued onwards.

* * *

"Next stop," Nida announced. "Deling City. Please secure all belongings and remain seated until the Ragnarok has come to a complete stop."

Irvine chuckled; the comment had definitely broken the silence that had befallen them since the end of their discussion, which had been a good thing since the sharpshooter had to figure out exactly how he was going to word his request to President Caraway, but it had started to grate on his nerves a little.

Well, the _whole_ trip hadn't been in silence; he'd received that phone call from Quistis and a few minutes ago, Nida had had to confirm who they were and what they were there for. They were just touching down just on the outskirts of Galbadia's capital when Irvine rose to his feet and stretched his aching limps. He didn't think humans should have to stay in one position the entire time, but he'd remained seated like a good cowboy during the entire flight, simply because there wasn't anything else to do.

And as comfortable as those Estharian chairs were, his backside had been starting to fall asleep.

"In all seriousness, though," Nida said, his expression sobering a bit. "I hope you're as good an actor as you claim to be."

"Nida, I'm the greatest liar in all of Galbadia Garden," Irvine said, winking at him in good jest. "I'm sure I'll be able to manage."

"I hope you can prove it," Nida said, shaking his head.

"That won't be too hard. Just remember; stay seated and wait for us to mosey on back before we set off to Dollet."

"Wish I brought a book," Nida complained, leaning back in his chair. "Well, at any rate, I can catch up on some much needed sleep."

"Don't get too comfortable; this shouldn't take long."

And with that, Irvine fixed the cowboy hat on his head and turned to leave; his trench coat swishing behind him as he moved towards the lift.

* * *

_**5:00:00**_

* * *

_I would like to thank Peter J Marcroft for helping me with the autopsy scene. I had no idea what I was going to do, since the only autopsies I had ever actually known about were on forensic television shows like CSI, or NCIS, and recently in Saw IV. Still, I had no idea how to convey it enough to make it seem real. So yeah, the credit for that scene goes to him._


End file.
